Between Five and Six
by xMinipizzax
Summary: Rachel finds herself trapped in an elevator with the prettiest blonde she's ever seen.
1. Between Five and Six

**I'm working on Chapter 30 for 'Don't You Know?' I promise. **

**However, this story popped into my head so... yea**

* * *

Just when Rachel thought her day couldn't possibly get any worse, it did.

Not only did she start by waking up late, but her hair just _had_ to refuse to submit to her will as well. She showed up late to her appointment with her stylist which meant a rushed job because the interview she had scheduled definitely could _not _wait. After that, her assistant had spilled coffee all over her, ruining her dress and sending her mood from 'highly irritated' to 'murderous'. He had barely gotten away with not getting fired—she wasn't evil, after all, and she knew he needed the job.

Really, though, the kid was awful; even if he hadn't fumbled over his own two feet and splashed the liquid all over her, she did not miss the fact that it wasn't even hot. She knew the coffee would have ruined her day either way and she wasn't surprised. Afterwards, she had to go _all_ the way back to her hotel to change because she had a date planned right after the interview. It had taken _forever_ to finally schedule a date with her boyfriend because of their ridiculously hectic schedules and she absolutely _refused_ to be late for it. Yet, she found herself running short on time because the traffic was typical New York and she was only _just_ pulling up to her hotel.

While she had an apartment, she hadn't been there in a while due to the proximity problems; the hotel was much closer to where she needed to be for the time being than was her apartment. Also, she much preferred not having to clean up after herself.

What her dads would say now, if only she had kept in contact with them.

With a frustrated exhalation, she shoved money towards the driver and briskly walked – she did _not _run – into the hotel and headed for the elevator. The tapping of her foot was the one thing keeping her sane at the moment. All she was managing to do was frustrate herself more by continually thinking about how to unwind for her date. Rachel knew that she would ruin the date if she remained as irate as she was now.

The doors opened and she thought _finally_ in an extremely frustrated tone of voice. It was, thankfully, empty and the brunette stepped in and pressed her floor. Right as the doors started to close, she watched as a blur ran through them. The metal stopped moving for a moment and then continued their journey.

She looked over her shoulder to find a little girl with blonde curls standing in the other front corner silently. Her back was pressed against it as if she was hiding and her breathing was rapid. It made sense, considering that she had just been running.

Rachel ignored the girl and just stared as the numbers glowed and they passed the second floor. They were somewhere between the fifth and sixth floor when the lights dimmed and the elevator came to a stop. She immediately went to reach for her phone only to realize that she had left it in her previous outfit— the one that Josh had spilled coffee all over. She was now second-guessing her decision not to fire him.

"Just my fucking luck," she pounded her head against the wall, pressed the emergency button, and remained completely ignorant to the child that was in the corner still. The girl had definitely dropped the smile that was on her face, though.

"What was that?" Rachel heard the tiny voice of the girl question. She looked up and momentarily regretted her curse.

"That was the elevator stopping." Why should she sugarcoat it? This was New York where kids either grew up fast or they got beaten down.

"Why did it stop?" she tilted her head to the side and blonde curls swayed towards the floor.

"Because the world hates me," Rachel groaned as she let her knees give out and fell to the floor. The single favorable outcome of the day was that she had had a spare change of clothes so, even if they weren't 'date worthy', she wasn't stuck in the stupid elevator _and_ covered in cold, stale coffee-stained clothes.

Considering the day she'd already had, that small fact was a blessing from the gods that oh-so-clearly loathed her existence. They really had to go out of their way to make her day so unequivocally unpleasant. What she had done to deserve such karma, she had no idea. She swore she wouldn't fire Josh if she was out of the freaking metal box within the hour. At this point, she would most definitely be late, but at least she would still make it if her wish came true. There was one thing that she wanted was to see tonight, and that was her boyfriend. The plan had been to have a nice night, share a few laughs, and sleep in his arms. Was that _really _so much to ask? She didn't think so.

"Why does the word hate you?" Even Rachel's cold heart softened a bit at the girl's mispronunciation of the word 'world'. Knowing that nothing was going to change anytime soon, she looked at the girl and finally took in her whole appearance. The loose blonde curls framed large hazel eyes that were open and looking at Rachel as if she held all the answers. There was a white flower clipped into the side of her hair to match the white dress with thin shoulder straps and a pink band around the stomach. To end the outfit, she wore white tights and black flats. She was definitely dressed up for something, probably a wedding; they _were _at a hotel. Rachel wondered who her parents were. Hopefully they were important because she'd be damned if she was stuck in here with a kid for more than an hour.

"Who knows. You don't have a cell phone, do you?" The girl's jaw dropped and she stuck her head out. And people told Rachel _she _was overdramatic.

"I'm not even six yet!" she sputtered, hands tossed in the air. Rachel wanted to respond with a, "Yea? I've seen four year olds with iPads, let alone phones, ya snot," but she refrained. It'd be a new low to bitch out a child, even for Rachel Berry. The tabloids would have a field day.

Instead, she just sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Sorry your parents are behind the times, kid."

The girl made a choked sound and Rachel assumed she had scoffed. "Mommy is always neaw. I don't need a phowne." The sound of Beth plopping down across from Rachel filled the small space.

"And your father?" Was Rachel _really _starting something with a five year old? She wanted to shake her head at herself but it's not like she had anything better to do.

The reaction she got wasn't completely unexpected but it certainly wasn't what Rachel actually expected to hear. The girl shrugged sadly, "I don't have a dad."

Rachel stayed silent, not sure what to say. It felt weird to say 'sorry' to a five year old girl she had just met. Luckily, the girl spoke up before she had to say anything herself.

"Is the elevato bwoke?" Rachel was once again reminded that she was speaking to a _child_, even if said child was beginning to make the brunette think she was adorable. Now that she thought about it, five year olds weren't even in kindergarten. What was a five year old doing running around a hotel? Maybe her mother wasn't so important after all. She just sighed mentally; it was New York.

"Broken. And yes, it is."

"Oh."

There was silence.

"I'm Beth."

"Rachel."

"Awe we gonna die, Wachel?"

The diva choked on her own air.

* * *

Quinn just needed her day to be over. She was happy for her friends, really. Brittany and Santana deserved each other, always had, always will. However, she was tired and she really just wanted to go to her room and fall asleep. Of course, her best friend had reserved some part of the hotel for her wedding and the reception was barely just getting started. Quinn was e_xhausted_, though.

She'd been up late reading through the same story for the _eighth_ time in case she missed anything the first seven times. She'd found nothing except one misplaced comma which meant that she'd have to go through it at least one more time. The one plus side to having already read the story once – though the second time counted, too – was that she tended to focus more on the words anyway, seeing as she already knew the story by heart. Really, though; this was a story she needed to be perfect. The story would possibly – and probably – change her career.

In other words, to say that she was tired would be the understatement of the year. The singular thing keeping her even mildly alert was the stampede of children running around the place. She had to make sure one of the little runts didn't take her out.

Speaking of runts, she didn't see her own. The ones running around looked to be playing tag and she was certain her daughter had been among them. Scanning the crowd for a bouncing ball of blonde, Quinn felt a slight panic creeping up on her. It was so easy for a child to disappear in such a big party…

It didn't help her fear that she had just watched a movie about a girl being kidnapped the other night. Right after it ended she had rushed to her daughter's room just to double check that she was, in fact, still there.

She didn't feel that sense of relief of knowing her daughter was safe right now; she felt worry instead. A deep, nervous sense of worry.

She practically jumped out of her seat to search for her girl when the sound of a distant alarm reached her ears. Her heart instantly started beating double time and she bolted from the room as fast as she could while not falling over in her heels.

When she reached the receptionist booth she saw a few people making calls and a red light blinking.

The snippets of conversation she heard didn't alleviate much of her confusion. "Elevator B," "A woman and a girl," "Microphone not working," "About ten minutes. Seven minutes and thirty four seconds to be precise."

"Excuse me," she interrupted and three heads turned in her direction. She pulled back, slightly intimidated by the three pairs of eyes staring at her. "I'm looking for my daughter; blonde hair, white dress. She has a flower on the side of her head."

The three heads swiveled in the direction of each other. "You mean this girl?" the only woman of the group turned a monitor in her direction. Quinn swallowed before looking, preparing for the worst. A blinking light, phone calls, pale faces—that never ended well.

Finally dragging her eyes to the screen, Quinn felt all her thoughts whirlwind and jumble her mind. What was she looking at? There was a tiny room with metal rails on the screen and there were two people sitting down so that the only real visible part of them was the top of their heads. Quinn thought maybe they were sitting down and out of view of whatever camera was on them. The woman on the right had dark hair. The one on the left was much smaller and she had blonde hair and a white flower…

"Beth!" she grabbed the sides of the monitor. "What is my daughter doing on some screen?" she accused and glared at all three employees.

"That's the view from inside elevator B," one of the men said as he pointed to his left. Quinn looked over to her right, eyes finding the elevator in question. A red light was blinking over it.

"I don't understand," she said slowly. Why was her daughter on screen and in a blinking elevator?

"The elevator is malfunctioning and has stopped between the fifth and sixth floor. We've already called for someone to—"

"My daughter is trapped in an elevator with some _stranger!"_ she shouted, terrified. Why in the world had she taken her eyes off of her daughter? It had been for a solitary moment, a quick flash of time, when her fatigue had gotten the best of her and her eyes had closed of their own volition.

"She's perfectly safe, I assure yo—"

"And I'm sure that, twenty minutes ago, you would have _assured_ me that those elevators were safe, too!" She might not be thinking rational thoughts at the moment, and she was aware of that fact, but nothing mattered because her daughter was trapped in an elevator without her and Beth got panicky when Quinn left her alone for more than an hour or two at a time. The blonde knew how long it could take to get her out and she wanted to cry. Sure, her daughter would be fine at first, but eventually she would settle down and realize Quinn wasn't coming anytime soon and she would be overcome with anxiety.

Ever since she'd lost her other mother, the girl had needed Quinn's presence in her life like never before. Quinn had been forced to start to work from home in order to be around her daughter and rarely did she go anywhere without her. When the occasion where she simply couldn't bring her daughter arose, Santana or Brittany would watch the girl until Quinn got back. Even then, Beth would oftentimes cry the entire time because she feared her mommy was never going to come back.

Losing Emily had been hard on both of them, but Beth had really taken to the other woman. It had been almost a whole year into their relationship when Quinn suddenly got the call that Emily wouldn't be home that night. Dropping Beth off in order to go to the hospital to identify the body had been one of the hardest things she'd ever been forced to do. Somehow, she managed not to break down then. She didn't break down the next month, either. No, instead she broke down five weeks and two days after the fact when she came home and found a note on the counter that Brittany had left.

"_Took Beth to the hospital. Left a message on your phone."_

It had been awful, searching the house for something telling and finding the broken glass of the table in the living room. There had been a sufficient amount of blood pooled around some specific pieces and Quinn's heart had dropped. She had cried the moment she saw her daughter's hand wrapped in thick bandages as she sat in a hospital bed.

"_I'm so sorry, Quinn! She was crying for Emily and I tried to calm her down, I really did, but she screamed and slammed her fists into the glass. I'm so, so sorry."_

But Quinn hadn't been mad at Brittany—she'd been mad at herself for not addressing the issue well enough with her daughter. She had tried to block out the pain instead of dealing with it. In the process, she had apparently forgotten about her daughter's feelings.

"_Whewe's Emily, mommy? I wan Emly!"_

"_She's gone, baby, I'm sorry."_

"_No! I wan Emly! I WAN EMLY!"_

Quinn had taken her home with red eyes and a strained heart. The next morning, when she had tried to leave for work, Beth threw a fit and cried, begged, _pleaded_ for her mommy not to leave her. It didn't matter that Quinn promised to return, Beth was devastated. It was as if the girl expected Quinn never to return either. The fact that her five year old daughter thought she was going to die terrified Quinn. She couldn't imagine leaving Beth on her own. Needless to say, work was called and Quinn informed her boss of what was going on. He had, fortunately, understood and allowed her to work from home. It helped that her employee record was spotless.

She'd spent her entire morning with her arms wrapped around her daughter's tiny body as she whispered soothing words and sang a few songs. She'd eventually fallen asleep and Quinn hadn't the heart to leave her in her bed alone. Instead, she'd held her and just cherished the fact that she hadn't lost both of them. That was around four months ago.

The man behind the counter looked like he was about to bite back but the female employee shot him daggers from her eyes. "I can see why you're upset but yelling won't help your daughter right now. The elevator is stable. The problem is just an electric malfunction that the technicians will be able to fix in a few hours at most. I have a daughter, too. I'm sure you're just concerned for her safety."

Quinn tried to relax, she knew it was necessary if she didn't want to be confined to solitary, but all she could envision was her daughter going insane.

"My daughter has panic attacks," she pleaded to the woman who looked at her sympathetically. "They get merciless and I won't be able to calm her down because she's _stuck in an elevator without me!"_

"We'll inform the technicians but, and I'm truly sorry, there's really not much we can do at this point but wait. You're free to watch the monitor as long as you need to." Quinn couldn't do much but collapse onto the floor and let out an excruciated cry. She hardly even noticed the warm arms of her best friend wrap around her.

Leave it to her to ruin the woman's wedding day.

* * *

"No, I don't believe so." She wanted to roll her eyes but the girl had asked so seriously and Rachel hadn't missed the look that crossed her face. She knew that whatever curious phase the girl had been in had passed. She was moving on to the peri-panic phase. The folding of her arms over her pulled in legs said as much. The child was practically in fetal position.

"My mommy's fwiend got mawwied today."

"You don't say." It was evident that Rachel's sarcastic tone of voice flew right over the girl's head as she nodded excitedly.

"Aunt Santana and Aunt Bwittany." Rachel blinked and wanted to slap herself because of it. She blamed her reaction on being caught off guard on her nightmare of a day. Why should two women getting married shock her? Her dads were gay _and_ it was 2019. Times had changed from when she was in high school. Plus, and it really was the end-all explanation, she was in _New York._ She was embarrassed by herself.

"Do you like them?" More nods.

"You wemind me of Aunt Santana. Mommy is mowe like Bwittany." Rachel chuckled as she assumed the girl meant that Santana had brown hair and, seeing as Beth was blonde, she figured so were her mom and Brittany.

"Do you look like your mother?" Still more nods.

"She's weally pweatty," she beamed.

"I bet you she's not as pretty as you," Rachel had no idea when she had decided to be nice, but she found that her bad mood had simmered. The girl was clearly trying to distract herself from something, likely fear of dying in an elevator with a stranger. It wasn't a terrible favor for Rachel to speak to the kid. She would've wanted someone to talk to _her_ if she was in Beth's situation, she just wasn't used to communicating to real people anymore. The _one_ person she talked to in a conversational manner was David, her boyfriend, and even then she tended to treat him like crap. He gave it right back, though, and that was why Rachel needed him in her life.

The girl's smile got even wider and Rachel couldn't believe this girl wasn't an actual angel. She started to wonder if maybe God was sending her an intervention. She inwardly mocked herself; she didn't believe in any god. She hadn't in a while.

"She's beautiful, though."

"I'm sure she is."

"Youw pwetty, too." Rachel couldn't explain it but she blushed. There was something about kids and honesty; they rarely said things they didn't mean unless they wanted something. Like an extra cookie before dinner.

"Mommy says that when people blush it's cuz theiw embaw… embawwassed." Rachel could tell she had tried her best to get that 'r' sound in, but just couldn't.

"Your mother sounds like a smart woman," Rachel smiled at the girl. Part of her stopped wanting to be let out of the hell hole of an elevator so soon. She found that, with her anger gone and David out of her mind, she was quite content being blocked out from the world.

"She is. Vewy smawt."

"I'm sure," Rachel said but, this time, she didn't say it as an insult in disguise. Deciding to relax a bit more, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall.

"Wachel?" Beth intoned after biting her lip.

"Yes, Beth?" the diva peeked open an eye.

"I want my mommy." It hurt, slightly. Why? Rachel had no idea. Maybe it was because the girl had a mother to love or maybe it was because Rachel felt inadequate. Why should she, though? It's not like she _knew_ Beth; she had only just met her and not on pleasant terms at that.

"I bet she wants you, too."

"I'm scawed." Something ticked within Rachel. It could have been the hint of a whine in Beth's voice, foretelling of possible tears, or it might have been the shaking of the lip. Either way, she lowered her knees so that she was sitting with her legs crossed and opened her arms. It was as if the girl had wanted just that, only she didn't want to ask, as she instantaneously scuttled over and threw herself into Rachel's lap. Her arms flew around a tan neck and she rested her forehead on Rachel's collarbone.

"I bet, elevators are notorious for smelling bad; it frightens me, too," the brunette said as she awkwardly rested her arms around the girl. The last time Rachel had held a child was in college when she had watched her roommate's sibling for a day. That had been freshman year and, while it had gone well, Rachel had changed so much since then. The last three years had literally ripped her apart as she had lost and gained parts in shows by various deeds having been done. She had carried out acts that she had never even dared _imagine_ she would do.

It was when Beth burrowed into her further that Rachel felt her body loosen up. She allowed herself to find reassurance in the touch. Beth needed her because she was a scared child, locked in an elevator with a strange lady, and she wanted her mother. Well, Rachel wasn't her mother by any means but she felt something shift inside her.

She wanted to be mad over missing dinner with David; surely she would miss it at this rate. She knew she _should_ be upset because she always was these days. She wanted to throw a bitch fit and kick everything around her like a child during a tantrum. She wanted everyone around her to show concern for her so that she could blow them all off and let them realize that she didn't give a flying _fuck _about what they thought of her.

That was who she was. It was who she'd been for so long a time now.

The thing was, she held an innocent child in her hands and she really couldn't get the idea that the girl was an angel out of her head. How could she possibly remain distressed when Beth was in her arms?

She'd never allowed herself to picture a life with kids, with a family; David didn't want them. They weren't married, yet, but they'd been together a long time and Rachel figured it would happen eventually. Once she finished with her latest project, David will have finished his up and they'd have more time together. She was expecting him to ask within the next year.

It was weird, sitting in an elevator with a child. With no phone and no one but a five year old to talk to, Rachel found that things were clearing up about her life. She hadn't sat down to just _think_ in months. With her life as busy a mess as it had been, she was lucky she remembered her own name half the time.

Why was she expecting David to ask anyway? It wouldn't change anything. They'd still fight, still find other projects to work on. They'd rarely see each other. Nothing would change with vows. There wouldn't even be a big wedding; they wouldn't have time. Neither would want to take off of their job for so long.

Occupations came before their relationship. Rachel couldn't even honestly say she was happy with David; she just wasn't _un_happy. It wasn't as if David was a bad guy; he was a better person than she was, actually. They were merely good together because they both understood that life wasn't some beautiful land of love and fairytales.

David was a big factor for why she was estranged from her fathers, though. They didn't approve of a relationship without love. Rachel knew they'd never understand.

What she and David had wasn't love but it was easy and it _worked_. They liked each other, they were friends, and they could spend the rest of their lives together and not care.

The kicker was that Rachel looked down at Beth and realized that she wanted her. Not in, like, a kidnapping kind of way. She just held the girl and knew she couldn't live that life of ease and dispassion if it meant no kids.

Beth crying for her mother caused Rachel to be reminded of her fathers and how much she missed them. Surprisingly, Leroy had been far more wounded by his daughter's betrayal than Hiram. It still hurt, thinking about them. She remembered being young, like Beth, and scraping knees. She remembered 'boo-boo bunnies' and magical kisses that healed all wounds. She remembered her bedroom, yellow and completely child-like even when she was a teenager. She remembered her ghastly fashion sense and hugs.

Hugs. She remembered being held when she cried, which was often. High school had been a bitch to Rachel. She resented her old classmates more than anything else. Scratch that; she resented her first boyfriend more than her old classmates. Finn Hudson had left her like trash on a sidewalk the moment she'd introduced him to her fathers.

Sighing, Rachel wished for the hugs back. She wished for the protection of Leroy's strong arms and Hiram's soft ones.

She was an adult, now, though. She didn't need _hugs_. The one she was giving Beth was strictly for the child's sake. The hand rubbing the girl's back wasn't a comfort to her for being needed; no. Beth needed her mother and Rachel was being forced to play the part. Being an actress, Rachel was only a character in a scene.

That's what she tried to convince herself of, anyway.

Beth's arms tightened around her neck and any ice left in Rachel's heart dissolved.

"I can't lose my othew mommy, too, Wachel," the girl was shaking and Rachel knew that, if they weren't there already, the tears were coming.

"Shh," she turned the girl so she was sideways on her lap and ran her left hand through the right side of the girl's hair. "We're gonna get out of here and your mommy is going to be standing outside of the door. She'll be smiling at you and telling you what a brave girl you've been."

"I want my mommy, Wachel."

"I know," Rachel sighed for what felt like the millionth time. This time was different though; this time it was a sigh of agreement. For the first time since adulthood, Rachel wanted her dads.

* * *

"Thanks, S." Though Quinn's eyes were still red from crying, she had finally ended her fit and now she only had to deal with a small case of hiccups.

"No problem, Q. I always knew you'd make my wedding about you," the Latina joked. She needed to see Quinn smile because her friend had gone through too much shit in the last few months. Hell, Emily's death had affected everyone.

The broken laughter she received wasn't what she had hoped for but it was better than the crying.

"Ready to watch?" she asked gently. She knew Quinn needed to see Beth, even if it was through a ten by twelve inch screen on a computer. The blonde nodded and gripped Santana's hand.

"Will you stay with me?" She didn't want to ask but Quinn didn't know if she could watch her baby girl panic without support. She knew it was inescapable, much like the elevator.

"Of course, Q."

"Have they figured out why the microphone isn't working?"

"No, but they at least managed to hear what's going on in there, even if they can't communicate back."

"Oh, that's better than nothing, I guess." Quinn felt a new wave of misery wash over her but she swallowed down her sob and covered it with a hiccup. She needed to see Beth and she couldn't do that if tears were blurring her vision.

* * *

The tears had hit Beth and they'd hit her hard. Rachel wished she had some sort of way to measure time. For all she knew, they could have been in that damned elevator for anywhere from thirty minutes to six hours.

Rachel had felt the first signs of hunger a while ago, though, so she assumed it had been about two hours, maybe two and a half. She vaguely wondered if David had stormed out of the restaurant or if he had gone and ordered food anyway. Likely the latter.

She knew Beth had been crying for a long time, she just had a very bad idea of just how much time had passed. She'd tried all sorts of things to calm the girl down and none seemed to work.

What did parents do? Beth was five. What did parents do for five year olds? These were the questions she'd asked herself and, seeing as she had never planned to have a child, she didn't know the answers.

She was so close to letting the anxiety take over her because it seemed as if the girl was breathing funny. Small gasps made their way out of the girl's throat and that was when she recognized the panic attack taking over the kid. Hazel eyes were pinched shut as if Beth was in pain and Rachel tried to think faster.

Changing tactics, because clearly the first ones weren't working, she decided to ask herself what she did when _she_ was sad and what her fathers used to do for her. Suddenly it all came together and she felt like an idiot.

* * *

"Santana, she's _holding_ my _child_," Quinn was pulling out her hair in her frantic state. Her daughter had jumped onto the woman's lap as if she was Santa because _she _wasn't there for her!

"Yea, Q, she's _comforting _your child. You should be damn thankful."

"No, she's _failing_ to comfort Beth because _no one_ can comfort Beth except me and you know that! Nothing's changed in the last hour!"

"At least she's trying, Quinn," Brittany came up behind the two and wrapped her arms around her fellow blonde in an attempt to settle her. Nothing could settle her, though, as she imagined the panic attack worsening to the point where her daughter would throw up and pass out. How on Earth would that woman with her in the elevator know how to handle the situation?

Quinn didn't even have time to verbally counter what her friend had just said because the sound coming from the monitor snatched their attention and put it on lockdown.

_Hello world_

_Hope you're listening_

_Forgive me if I'm young_

_For speaking out of turn_

_There's someone I've been missin'_

_I think that they could be_

_The better half of me_

_They're in the wrong place trying to make it right_

_But I'm tired of just-i-fying_

_So I say to you…_

_Come home_

_Come home_

_Cause I've been waiting for you_

_For so long_

_For so long_

_Right now there's a war between the vanities_

_But all I see is you and me_

_The fight for you is all I've ever known_

_So come home_

Quinn, Santana and Brittany weren't the only ones to find themselves enamored by the woman's voice. A crowd of employees and party guests – ones that were close to Quinn – were just as captivated as most of the group.

Quinn was trapped as her eyes watched as her daughter's chest lessened in its heaving more and more with each verse. By the last one, she looked almost as if she was… sleeping. But there was no way because no one could handle Beth; the girl refused to be handled.

* * *

_So come home_

Rachel was pretty sure that Beth had fallen asleep somewhere near the end of the first refrain. She had sung slowly to lengthen the song and was amazed at how fast it had worked. She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it earlier; she would've saved the girl so many tears.

Hazily, Rachel realized that she was still trapped in an elevator and she wondered if the emergency button even worked. Was anyone aware of her missing presence? Surely someone was very distraught over Beth's disappearance. Rachel was certain someone had to be missing the girl; she was so precious.

Then again, part of the singer almost didn't want to be found but another part of her recognized that her thoughts were foggy, probably due to her hunger. It also felt like it had been a really long time. With stiff muscles, Rachel shifted her weight in small increments so as not to wake the blonde in her lap. She debated the pros and cons of lying on the floor – hey, it was reasonable; people did questionable things in elevators – and ended up ignoring the fact that a numerous amount of things had come into contact with the tiled floor. Ever so gradually, Rachel tilted her body so that she was lying on her back and Beth was resting on her stomach, head still resting by her shoulder.

She wondered if having a kid would give her this feeling of being needed and… whole. Complete. She hummed the rest of the song to herself before she let sleep take over her as well.

* * *

The area had become dead silent with the song saying everything. No one spoke for at least a few minutes after the song. Even then, they had waited to speak until the woman had moved and came into view. Quinn watched as her daughter was gently shifted so that she was lying down over the stranger. As much as her heart wanted to break over seeing her daughter be comforted by someone who wasn't her, she allowed her gratefulness to take over instead.

Her daughter was sleeping and her panic attack had apparently ended. Regardless of the fact that a woman that _no one_ seemed to know was taking care of her child, Beth was safe for the time being. Maybe that was all that mattered, but Quinn still felt a few silent tears break over her lashes.

"Oh my god, that's Rachel Berry," a woman's voice finally piped up. Murmurs of excited agreement ran through the small crowd and a few noticeable shouts from obvious fans could be heard. Most of the people around were already on phones typing away while Quinn just stared at the screen as if mute. It was as if minutes turned into seconds.

She vaguely knew of a Rachel Berry – who didn't? – but fame didn't matter much to a woman whose daughter was in Beth's position.

"She's supposed to be a major bitch, though," someone pointed out.

"Yea, no way that's her."

"Maybe if you stopped reading tabloids and started reading your textbooks, you wouldn't be so stupid. That's Rachel Berry, for sure."

"Sorry not all of us—"

"Shut up, already!" someone shouted.

After another twenty minutes or so, the technicians' device sounded and a garbled, "It's fixed," came through. The red lights stopped flashing and the heavy shifting sound of an elevator moving could be heard through the device as well.

"We've programmed the elevator to come back down to this level," the woman, whose name was Lauren, behind the counter said.

It was funny how little Quinn had noticed anything outside of the world of the screen. The lights in the elevator got brighter and the woman, apparently Rachel Berry, blinked a few times. The camera had a decently graded picture and, though it didn't capture things perfectly, she could see such movements just fine. Therefore, she saw when Rachel ran her hand through Beth's hair and whispered something that the microphone couldn't pick up.

* * *

"Hey, pretty girl, it's time to wake up." The sight of Beth's eyes peeking open, no longer red and puffy, pulled at the brunette's heart. "It's time to see mommy."

"Mommy?" Hazel eyes snapped wide open and shown with an excessive amount of vulnerability. Breath found itself trapped in Rachel's throat and the woman could only nod in response. Slowly, ever so slowly, Rachel forced herself to stand and she lugged up Beth while she was at it. Placing the girl on her right hip, Rachel looked up to the numbers and watched they left the fifth and a half floor and made their way down to the first.

"Yes, Mommy. She'll be standing right there, I bet," she pointed to the door. Beth turned her gaze to the door and gripped tighter around Rachel's neck in anticipation. A feeling of apprehension suddenly flew through her; she imagined Beth's mother standing there, likely with tears streaming down her face, and she imagined handing the girl over. Then she imagined looking around and knowing that no one would be there for her. She'd walk away after being asked 'what happened?' a bunch of times and she'd take the stairs to her seventh floor room, alone.

As overjoyed as she felt for Beth, she felt only pity for herself. The fact that it was her own fault weighed heavy on her chest; she was the one who had pushed people away. It's the way her life went and it worked. Even if it hurt, it kept her life moving freely.

The elevator stopped as they reached their destination. The big "1" was lit and, ever so deliberately slow, the door opened to a sizeable crowd of people all dressed nicely. Figures it would be the wedding party. Rachel was left wondering if maybe the mother was important if so many people cared for her child.

"Mommy!" Beth's voice broke and she immediately started crying again. Rachel stepped out of the elevator, ignoring the looks of the large group of people, and headed towards the woman who looked strikingly similar to her daughter. The woman met Rachel in the middle and bent down slightly, allowing pale arms to wrap around her own neck as she took Beth from the smaller woman.

"Beth," she did indeed have tears in her eyes as she dug her face into her daughter's hair and _really _breathed for the first time in hours. Rachel immediately felt awkward – something she rarely felt as she always made everyone _else_ feel awkward – so she just turned her head to the side and took a step back.

"I told you it was Rachel Berry!" It hit the singer then that maybe the crowd wasn't just for Beth after all. How did they know, though? "You've been in there for hours!" someone shouted and her heart sank. The familiar pattern of pictures being taken was not missed by Rachel and she didn't even want to think about what would be online later.

"Thank you," a low voice whispered and Rachel looked up to see a familiar set of hazel eyes gazing at her. She felt her stomach flutter as she took in the features of Beth's mother. Her beauty was flawless and Rachel understood that Beth had been correct. Leave it to Rachel Berry to get herself trapped in an elevator with a beautiful child whose mother is the definition of perfect. Even worse, leave it to her to feel tingles at the sight of the mother looking at her with such an intense stare.

"It was no problem, really," she looked for an escape but found none; everyone had circle around. "I'm just going to leave now, I guess," she turned to her right and released a huge sigh of relief when that part of the circle split wide open to let her through. The first step she took on the stairs killed her; what was she supposed to do now?

She sat down and covered her face with her hands. Reliving the entire past few hours, she knew what she _wanted_ to do, but she knew what that would entail.

Standing up, she straightened her posture and took the second step. Once she got to her room, she would call David on her second phone, explain to him what happened, and then she would head over to his apartment and move on as if nothing had ever happened.

After all, it wasn't as if she'd ever see Beth or her mother again. She didn't even know the blonde's name.

* * *

**This is a one-shot unless I'm prompted to do otherwise.**


	2. Is it Seventh and Eighth?

**So shall you ask, so shall you receive.**

* * *

"Welcome home," David lifted his right arm in the air as he opened up a space for Rachel on the bed. She looked at the space as if it were a cave, a cavern. In the end, all she saw were toned arms and a warm space to rest. Stripping off her jeans and shirt, she crawled into the area provided and turned her back to him. His arms wrapped around her, protecting her from the cold of the room and creating a pleasant sensation that spread throughout her being.

There were more than a few things about herself that Rachel kept hidden, but she simply could not deny that she loved to be held at night. David had clearly been in bed for some time because everything around him was perfect snuggling temperature. When he moved his head to press his lips to her neck, she allowed herself to relax and fall into the touch. She knew he wouldn't go further than that tonight, seeing as they both had an early morning the next day, and she was thankful for it. They were good together physically—they had good chemistry. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy the physical contact, it was just that she'd had such a stressful day that the last thing she wanted was to worry about _that_.

"I missed you," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. The inescapable goose bumps she knew would come made an appearance and she pushed farther back into him for more warmth. "I'm sorry I missed dinner." She had already explained to him what had happened over the phone, and he had accepted it easily enough. His only noticeable reaction was asking if the whole drama would be on the news tomorrow. The sigh she had released had told him enough and she was dreading the possible headlines.

"Broadway Bitch Actually Benign?" Those papers, how they loved alliteration.

It didn't really matter, in the end. Rachel would ignore any questions she was asked and wouldn't allow herself to think of Beth or her mother ever again. In fact, she denied herself the girl's name; she was the blonde kid in the elevator to her as of… now.

"Don't worry about it. Let's just sleep." It wasn't fair, though, because Rachel _couldn't_ sleep. She was exhausted, her day had been absolutely despicable, and she should be so wiped that unconsciousness should have taken over her the moment her head hit the pillow. There she was, however, wide awake and unable to find any comfort in David other than his magnificent body heat. His even breaths were felt as his chest was tight up against her back, but she found herself at a loss as to why the easy pattern didn't lull her into sleep as it usually did.

She hated her day, she hated every moment. It was this sentiment that she repeated over and over again to herself, and she would continue repeating it until it was true. She hated children with blonde halos of hair, she hated holding a crying child in an effort to comfort her, and she _hated_ singing to said child. She hated it all, especially seeing the girl's mother as utter relief took over her features at the sight of Be—her daughter. She hated watching the sickening amount of love that the woman clearly felt for the girl.

She had to convince herself of this; it was a necessity. If she failed in doing so, it would eat her alive to know that those feelings that had stirred inside of her weren't of hatred. They had to be, they just had to be.

It wasn't hatred, though. Rachel couldn't possibly hate Beth, because the girl had a name. She had a mother and a family and a life. She could envy the fuck out of her future life, because it was sure to be amazing in every way. The girl would grow to be a heartbreaker, surely, and would tell tales of being trapped in an elevator with a Broadway star when she was only five. No one would believe her until they saw the pictures—and there _would_ be pictures, if the crowd was anything to go by.

It felt odd to envy the little girl for having a family, especially since she had her own. While she had spurned them, her fathers were still very much alive. The lack of contact was solely due to her; while they disapproved of her relationship with David, they still very much loved her. They had called every now and then, only Rachel hadn't the courage to answer the phone. She was a coward; that's what Broadway had made her.

She wondered how her fathers felt. She had never entertained the thoughts before because she simply hadn't wanted to. Now, it wasn't about whether or not she _wanted_ to; she _need_e_d_ to, dammit.

She imagined Beth being her child, growing up with love and smiles and laughter. She imagined singing to her every night until she fell asleep, and maybe continuing even after she had, just to milk the moment. Then, she imagined Beth leaving her and never looking back. The image alone scratched her heart and forced her to cringe from her position in bed. Her hand flew to the one around her waist and she squeezed, needing the comfort of knowing that, while she had envisioned it, she wasn't _actually_ alone. David was passed out, so she was fortunate enough not to have to worry about bothering him.

Back to Beth. She was pretty sure she'd be broken, shattered; she'd be torn to pieces if that child came to love her and then walked away. She would find herself sitting in the girl's childhood room and singing to herself. It was alarming how well Rachel could picture it all; it was as if it had actually happened.

She would lie on the bed and cry into the blankets that her daug—Beth had once used to protect herself from the monsters of the night.

_So come home_

Rachel realized with regret that the song would likely haunt her for the rest of her life. Beth's hazel eyes, the ones that matched her mother's so very well, would be there to look at her with such openness every time she'd hear, or even think of, that song.

When her body frankly could no longer take the strain of staying awake, Rachel felt her mind slow and was unable to prevent the images of blonde hair and childish smiles that filled her dreams.

* * *

The night should have ended quietly. Everything should have slowed down and Quinn should have been allowed to sleep in peace knowing that Beth was safe and sound. She should have been able to lay down with her daughter and just hold her as they both gave away the day to slumber.

Nothing of the sort happened.

Instead, Quinn was forced to deal with all the questions by herself because the brunette, Rachel Berry, had walked away. Time had slowed only for everything around her to speed up so that everything felt twice as long as it actually lasted. Beth was okay, she was unharmed. She repeated the mantra not only for herself, but in order to get through the night.

At one point, Santana had separated the blonde from the onlookers and had somehow taken Quinn to the room they would be staying at for the night. The next day, Quinn and Beth would return to their apartment and things would go back to normal. Well, they'd go back to normal minus the fact that Beth would probably be on a magazine cover that that didn't care about the privacy of a child.

Quinn honestly couldn't tell what on Earth had happened in the last hour or so. Everything was a blur, and not a sad blur like it had been without Beth. Oh no, this blur was one that left Quinn feeling unsure and anxious. To say that Quinn was apprehensive of what was to come would be down-playing it. In fact, the first bit of trouble came the moment she brought a warm cloth to Beth's cheek—she needed to wipe the evidence of fear from her daughter's face. It wasn't the cloth or the temperature that had Beth shrieking, but the memory behind the tears.

It was the strangest thing, but Beth had immediately looked up to her mother and met her eyes. What she saw was a pretty green that melted into a golden hue and burned softly at the edges, as if there was too much emotion in the woman for the colors to stay still. She saw those eyes surrounded by a shade of skin similar to her own, if a little lighter. Her mother's face was smooth and kind and there was not a sight in the world she loved more than her mother's smile. The problem wasn't what she saw; it was what she _didn't _see.

What she didn't see was a pair of gentle eyes that matched the brown of the chocolate she was sometimes permitted to enjoy. She remembered looking into them and searching for her mommy. When Rachel hadn't been her mom, Beth had felt devastated because Emily had left and now so would her mommy and she'd be left alone in the world and she would have no one. So she had cried because she just wanted to see her mommy.

And then Rachel had sung to her and she saw her mommy's face, with the gold and the green there to comfort her. She had stopped panicking and had even pulled tighter to Rachel. She had squeezed her eyes as tight as they could go and then had given up on fighting to stay awake because boy was she _tired_. She was always tired after she cried. The part that made her feel the most secure out of the whole ordeal, unusually enough, was taking a last peek up at the woman and seeing the look on Rachel's face that her mommy made all the time. Beth wished she had told Rachel not to cry, because she wasn't scared no more, but her body had taken over control and her eyelids had shut against her will.

She didn't see Rachel's eyes looking back at her and she was tired. She wanted to hear that song again.

"Whewe's Wachel?" Her mother's eyes closed and, when they opened, the green seemed to be a lot smaller and the gold was definitely darker.

"She's probably sleeping right now, baby. Like we should be."

"But I wanna see Wachel, mommy." Her mother pinched her lips tight and Beth knew that look; she wasn't going to get to see Rachel before she slept. She pulled her head away from the cloth and stuck her lower lip out. "I wanna see Wachel!"

"Beth, it would be rude to wake her up if she's sleeping isn't it? Besides, you don't know where she lives, do you?" Beth shook her head but refused to believe reason; she just wanted Rachel because she would make Beth feel all better. She would hold her and sing, and her mommy could join in and it could be like it was with Emily. And her mommy would smile like she used to and hold Beth and everything would be like how it used to be.

"I want Wachel!" she collapsed onto the floor in a fit and covered her head with her hands and arms.

"Beth," her mommy used her firm tone, but Beth didn't want to hear her mother's voice, she wanted Rachel to sing to her and, and…

Beth started to kick out her legs when her mother tried to peel her arms away. "Beth!" she cried out as her daughter's heel connected with her shin. "I want Wachel, I want Wachel," new tears came and sobs were released.

It broke Quinn's heart that her daughter was on the floor begging for a woman she had just met. It wasn't that Beth barely even knew Rachel or that Quinn didn't know her at all, it was that Beth had only ever acted this way twice before; once calling out for her and the second time for Emily.

It took a few tries but, eventually, Quinn managed to wrap her arms around Beth in a manner that prevented the girl from lashing out. After a few more attempts on the girl's part, Beth let the defeat wash over her and she broke down like Quinn knew she would.

"I just want Wachel, Mommy," she whispered in the tiniest voice possible, sniffling as she did so. Quinn rubbed her hand in large circles on her daughter's back and pressed her lips to Beth's warm temple; her face was overheated from the increased blood flow from struggling for so long.

"I know, baby, I know. But I'm here and I've got you, okay?" A weak nod was her only response as she carried her daughter, the only thing in life she had going for her, to the bed and pulled her close. Beth practically dug herself into her mother and continued to shake until drowsiness took her over for the second time that day.

The last thing she remembered was clenching her small fists over her mother's sleep shirt and pushing her nose into the heat of her mother's belly.

* * *

When it came to publicity, Rachel could have hoped for far worse. So far, the only mentions of yesterday's events were on the internet. Though the writing for the most popular article was sarcastic, and Rachel could tell the author was not a fan of her, even that story made her out to be less of a bitch than she was known to be.

She sighed—her status as head bitch on Broadway was something she took as a comfort. It wasn't that Rachel was in reality some monstrous human being out to ruin the lives of everyone around her – she could never be _that_ horrible – she just liked having barrier around her. That title was what kept people shying away from any contact with Rachel Berry. If people came to the realization that she wasn't truly a shrew of a woman, she would have to deal with, well, _people_. She didn't want to deal with people because people asked questions. Questions were what Rachel wanted to avoid.

The highlight of the article, for Rachel, was the picture attached. The elevator doors had just barely opened enough for her to walk through and she was looking down at Beth. She knew the look on her face; it was a feeling she'd suppressed for most of her career. Unless the emotion was needed in a show, of course. Beth, while not looking at Rachel, was grasping at Rachel's neck as if she would die if she let go. Her eyes were wide and she had clearly just found her mother with them. The blonde woman was not in that picture and Rachel slammed down her laptop before she could find any photos that _had_ captured her.

Silently, Rachel clambered into the car as Josh arrived to take her to see whoever it was she needed to see that day. There was about two minutes left in the drive when Rachel decided it was time to speak up.

"Josh, when we get out I want you to schedule me a flight to Cincinnati, Ohio as soon as is possible with my schedule." The boy looked acceptably surprised by the request but wasn't foolish enough to ask why, for once.

"I, uh, I think the soonest time available for more than a day or two is a little bit over a month, Ms. Berry."

"I figured as much," she removed the sunglasses from her face and looked at him in the eyes. "Just be sure to double-check for me, please." The word came out of its own volition and Rachel was sure the Josh was probably just as weirded out by the sound as she was. When was the last time she had said please? "It's not a big deal when, just as soon as possible. I plan on being there for a few days." With that, she exited the car as they had arrived at their destination.

Sunglasses back on, Rachel prepared herself for another shitty day.

* * *

There had been a tiny prickle of hope that no pictures of Beth would show up but, alas, that hope was in vain. The moment she woke up, Quinn scuttled out of bed, slowly as she tried not to wake her daughter, and shoved her laptop open and turned it on. The wait for everything to load was killing the blonde and she hadn't realized that she was holding her breath until she released it and took another one as she felt slightly lightheaded.

Google. 'Rachel Berry', 'Elevator'.

Bam.

There the woman was, holding her child. Admittedly, Quinn was reluctant to believe that the brunette was actually Rachel Berry. Sure, she had an amazing voice, but that hadn't _guaranteed_ that it was the Broadway diva.

She read the first article that popped up and pulled back a little at the evident sarcasm she found. While the piece didn't condemn Rachel, the admittance that the singer wasn't a _completely _terrible person came along almost begrudgingly. It was painfully obvious that the writer showed no love for Rachel Berry. Quinn was unable to stop herself from skimming through the rest of the photos; some of Rachel and Beth, some of Beth in her own arms, and an array of all three of them. There were so many pictures that it actually set Quinn on edge—what she saw felt more like a choppy movie than a picture slideshow.

Vaguely, she wondered how Rachel felt about the whole ordeal. Being stuck in an elevator with a child was bad enough, but Beth had outright broken down. Sighing, the blonde figured that Beth was exactly the reason Rachel had practically ran away from the situation. She'd thanked Rachel, but not nearly enough. Then again, maybe Rachel hadn't wanted a 'thanks'; maybe she'd wanted an apology. Who knew how celebrities worked?

Exiting the website, Quinn closed her laptop and looked over to the bed where her daughter was sleeping. There was nothing she was more thankful than to see the worry gone from the girl's face. Hopefully, today would be a better day.

* * *

Rachel wanted to rip her own eyes out, stab herself in the ears with barbed tips of steel, and slam her head against something hard until she either died or fell unconscious from loss of blood. She preferred dying because she feared the sight before her would follow her to the hospital if she were to wake. Then again, if the rumors were true and she was going to Hell, surely what lay in front of her would accompany her.

"So?"

Rachel wondered what words would be the best for this situation.

For some reason "_I'd say I want to vomit, but I'm pretty sure I already did about ten seconds in_," felt a little _too _harsh. Her fathers always told her that if she didn't have anything nice to say…

For the first time in her life, when it came to her job, Rachel remained completely silent. Instead, she waited for the others' inputs. It was awkwardly silent as none came.

"You may leave now," was all that was said. Knowing exactly what was implied by the short phrase, the girl deflated instantly and turned around as she headed for the door. Rachel couldn't help but shake her head at the act; the girl didn't even know how to put on a fake smile and she expected to be an actress? If she wasn't too busy being disgusted, she would actually feel sorry for the girl.

"Please, god, let the next one not be so painful to watch," the woman next to Rachel groaned. Her name was Hailey and Rachel found her to be tolerable enough. In fact, Rachel figured that, if she were to take down her own bitchy persona, she'd probably even like Hailey. The woman was the casting director of the short film that Rachel was taking part in; the one that led to an argument between Rachel and David.

It had been an… uncomfortable conversation with David, explaining her reasons for taking the part. Both of their first points were that she hadn't needed to audition.

Rachel's point was that she already had the part, so why not take it? She wouldn't allow anything she took part of to suck so what was there to lose? Plus, it could ease her into working an on-screen career.

David's point had been, "_Exactly! You didn't even need to audition because they __**gave**__ you the part, Rachel! You're going to be their only decent actress and you'll be surrounded by amateurs! It won't help your career, it will destroy it."_

Rachel's second point had been that she accepted the role on one condition—that she have final say over the cast. Her will was granted with minimal refusal.

David's second point was that she was given the power because she was being paid practically nothing.

Rachel's _third_ point had been that she had been offered more and had refused it so that they could spend more on the actual production versus her employment.

David's third point was that she was making a stupid decision and the movie would make her look like a fool when it came out.

There were no forth points and they hadn't talked about it since— a détente had been called in.

The singer hadn't understood at the time why she had taken on the role. Now, she wondered if maybe it was because some part within her had known something that the rest of her hadn't.

The remaining members of the group grumbled in agreement with Hailey as the next girl walked in and the introductions, the same as with every new girl, began. Once they were done, the girl proceeded to read through the lines.

Rachel immediately corrected herself.

No, to say that she was simply _reading through the lines_ would be an insult. This girl was clearly somewhere else, speaking the lines as if she were speaking to someone without script. Rachel discreetly put a line next to the girl's name and leaned back in her chair. She was pretty sure she'd just found her co-lead.

* * *

Quinn figured that the best thing about being back at home was the fact that nothing here could possibly remind Beth of Rachel. She desperately hoped that there would be no more fits thrown over the woman and no more tears. Beth needed something happy in her life, something that would never leave. She didn't need any more people walking into her life that could simply walk out.

Yes, being home would be the perfect solution for Beth.

Quinn couldn't have been more naïve or unaware; the building their apartment was in had an elevator. How she had forgotten such an obvious fact, Quinn had no idea. She wanted to smack herself in the forehead repeatedly as she saw the flood building behind her daughter's eyes. She grabbed the girl, picked her up before she could do anything rash, and made her way to the stairs. It seemed as if it wasn't going to be such an easy battle after all.

* * *

Although a few select girls had been chosen to come back and read through lines with Rachel in order to see if they worked well together, Rachel knew exactly who would be chosen in the end. She didn't even spend a second thought on it, she was so sure.

Once the torture was finally over, Rachel had headed back to David's apartment to grab the clothes she left there. She had expected them to be where she had left them on the floor but, instead, they were folded and placed on the table nearest the door.

Rachel stood immobilized the moment she saw them. It wasn't the fact that they were folded, nor the fact that they were on the table. No, David usually did things like that since he liked to keep things neat.

It was the white flower resting on top of the pile, slightly crushed around the edges. It was attached to a hair clip.

_No,_ an unanticipated bout of disbelief shocked through Rachel's system. _No, _she didn't want it to be real.

The girl was fucking _haunting _her if it was real.

She ran to her laptop and threw open the top, bringing up the page she had visited earlier. _No, _she cursed to herself and ran through the pictures, searching for something to tell her it was just happenstance.

Rachel was not granted her wish; not a single picture showed Beth with a flower still in her hair.

She slowly turned back to the pile, eyes stuck on the pin.

She could just throw it out and forget about it. How had it followed her anyway? Had it fallen out of Beth's hair while she was crying? No one would know that she still had it and it was likely that neither Beth nor her mother had even noticed the fact that it was gone. All she had to do was pick it up and throw it in the trash and it would vanish from her life for forever.

With her eyes still locked on the flower, Rachel stood up and walked towards it. It would be so easy to pretend that she never saw it. The memory of it in Beth's hair would fade as time passed by. The feeling of holding Beth would also disappear, eventually. Her fingertips came forward and grazed the petals. The whole day would diminish, its impact dwindling until it was as if it had never happened. Fingertips turned into fingers, which turned into a hand and engulfed the hair piece. It would be _so_ easy.

* * *

Being unable to put Beth to sleep, as the girl wasn't tired, Quinn had been left with only one option; TV cartoons. Her daughter was currently being brainwashed by one of her favorite animated series and Quinn was leaning over the document she'd been working on for some time now. She'd read through it one more time and, upon finding not a single error, decided that it was finished. Dragging the document over to her drive icon, she exported the information to the device and pulled it out of the system. She could have just sent it digitally, but her boss had been strict in that it _not_ be sent wirelessly. He didn't want some creepy, computer-savvy fan to get hold of it before it became a published piece.

As Quinn looked down at the small object, she knew she had to leave soon to drop it off. The one disadvantage to working at home rather than the office was that she couldn't simply walk down the hallway and hand the edited copy to her boss. No, she had to drive all the way there instead. She wasn't bitter about it, for there were many more pros than cons, she was just hesitant to bring Beth anywhere seeing as the girl had been acting up.

There were elevators _everywhere_. Quinn didn't need another frenzy today; she was too tired.

"Beth," she walked into the living room and watched as her daughter's head swiveled in her direction, her curls flopping in the air. With a smile, she noticed that the pajama pants Emily had bought her for Christmas still hung over Beth's feet as they were just a few inches too long.

"Mommy?"

"Time to get ready, okay? I have to drop something off." Blessedly, the girl jumped off the couch and ran past Quinn into her room. She came out all of half a minute later in a blue dress with a white cardigan and a worried expression on her face.

"What's wrong, babe?"

"Can't find my flowew. Fow my haiw," she pointed to the side of her head, pout forming. Quinn swallowed as she remembered Beth had worn it yesterday. Maybe she'd left it at the hotel in the room? She'd have to call later.

"We'll find it later, okay? You look just as pretty without it, I promise." She bent over to pick up Beth and balanced her on her hip. The girl didn't lose the pout, but she rested her head on Quinn's shoulder and sighed. That clip was her favorite.

* * *

"Josh, did you look up that information I asked you to?"

One day, Rachel promised herself, that boy would quit with the stuttering. Really, she wasn't Godzilla or anything.

"I, uh, w-which type? I managed to book your flight; it's in forty two days. I swear that was the fastest I could get one that worked for your schedule, Miss Berry."

"Never mind the flight, I meant the other information."

"O-oh, you meant… yea! I got that. It wasn't so hard, actually. I mean, once I—" Rachel put her hand in the air, silencing the boy.

"All I need is the information, Josh. I really don't care how you got it." She felt a stir in her stomach upon seeing air fly out of the boy like a deflating balloon. Maybe she was a big enough bitch to deserve his fear. At least he had a job.

"I sent it to your phone," he indicated by holding up his own.

"Go home early today, Josh. And good work." He looked as if he was debating on whether or not to thank her so she shooed him away to make it easy on him. Well, it made it easier on the both of them, really.

Looking down at the text he had sent her, Rachel found that she had a sense of direction. She knew where she was going, for once, and she was choosing to follow.

* * *

The only way to avoid catastrophe with Beth was for the girl to tuck her head into the space connecting Quinn's neck to her shoulder. With her eyes unable to look anywhere, no elevator memories could hit her. Quinn was debating on whether or not she had made a wise decision in not sending Beth to therapy; she truly had believed that her young mind would forget Emily soon enough. She had no clue that Beth would begin to become attached to things so soon. It sent tremors down Quinn's spine knowing that Beth might meet a friend when school started only to be torn apart when they didn't talk every day. That's how kids worked; they were best friends for a few days and then they went their own ways.

How would Beth handle that?

Quinn decided to put off figuring the rest out until later. She would either figure it out herself or get Beth some help. Help that she obviously couldn't give her.

Hell, how was Beth supposed to go to school if Quinn couldn't leave her?

It was too much.

The handing off of her work to her boss was fast and painless. He thanked her for the hard work and gave her another article to go through and bring back at a later date. "This one is much less urgent, don't worry."

"Mommy?" Beth asked when they were outside again.

"Yes, baby?"

"When awe we going home? I'm hungwy."

* * *

Rachel wished she had demanded that Josh dig deeper into his research. As she stood by the door she had knocked on around twenty minutes ago, she definitely regretted not finding out when the dweller of the apartment would be home.

She hadn't expected to have to wait; in her mind, this went much more smoothly. She envisioned knocking, the door being answered and… okay, so she really hadn't known what could happen after that. The point was that she had always imagined the door opening right away.

Because the door did _not_ open for her, however, Rachel found herself leaning against the wall and wondering what would happen _now. _Should she wait? What if they never arrived? What if Josh had been wrong and this was not the place?

She was just about to leave when she heard the scampering of light feet.

"I want mac and cheeeeeeeeeeese!" a high pitched voice shouted as a familiar blur ran around the corner. Beth had yet to notice Rachel standing by the door, but Rachel had absolutely noticed the girl.

"Beth, wait for me you little—" the blonde woman finally rounded the corner and her gaze, unlike Beth's, immediately landed on the brunette standing outside her apartment. Her back facing Rachel, Beth saw her mother make a weird face.

"Mommy? What awe you-" she turned around to see what her mommy was making a face at. "Wachel!" she squealed and ran forward, arms wrapped tight around the bare skin of Rachel's legs. She wore knee-high boots and a skirt, along with a nice shirt. Basically, her usual attire.

This… this Rachel had not planned for. This wasn't how it had happened in her head. This was awkward.

God, why hadn't she just thrown the damn flower clip out? Now she felt the urge to apologize to a woman she didn't know for randomly showing up and letting Beth hug her. What should she do? She couldn't just push Beth off of her?

She hated that Beth's reaction made her heart smile. She hated that she had mentally described her heart as smiling.

"I, uh, I'm sorry for showing up randomly. At your home. Uninvited." She looked at the blonde and understood exactly why Josh stuttered all the time. If Josh felt even half of the nerves she was feeling now, she would be giving that boy a raise along with a nice, big apology.

"Beth, come here," the woman called her daughter over. "Might I ask _why_ you're here?" Rachel didn't think the woman seemed upset or anything, mostly curious. Probably protective over Beth.

"Oh, yea, sorry. I probably should have said that first," she cleared her throat. _What on Earth was going on?_ "I found this with my clothes this morning," she reached into her bag and pulled out the clip. "I figured I'd return it…" uncertainty filled her being as the blonde said nothing while she pegged Rachel with a stare that kept her in place.

"My clip! That's my flowew!" Beth ran forward and reached for it, excitedly yelping over it. Rachel easily released her hold on it and watched as Beth hugged her legs once more before running back to her mother. "Look, Mommy, my flowew! Can we eat now?"

Her mother finally ended her contemplation and unlocked the apartment door. Beth ran in ahead while older hazel eyes once again found Rachel's brown ones.

"I sense the essence of Cinderella. I'm assuming you'd like to come in?" Rachel found herself faced with the most powerful eyebrow rise she'd ever seen.

Her stomach dropped; she hadn't prepared for this. She hadn't prepared for _any_ of this. Wouldn't it be weird to enter the apartment of someone whose name she _still_ didn't know? Well, technically, the information was probably in her phone. She hadn't looked, though. She'd seen the address and she'd waited.

"Well, actually, I just wanted to drop off the clip and—"

"Please?" the blonde said unexpectedly. Her demeanor had changed now into something almost desperate. It was then that Rachel saw the tiny curves of blue under the woman's eyes. She looked _exhausted._ "Beth's going to throw a fit if you leave now and I've already…" she trailed off as she ran her knuckles across her forehead. "Hell, never mind. I don't even know why I asked that. You're obviously busy with—"

"If you're going to invite me in," Rachel took her turn to interrupt with a surprise burst of courage, "can I at least know your name? To be honest, this could all have been some set up and you could be a crazy fan trying to lure me into you house only to trap me in some form of a dungeon."

The woman blinked as she likely tried to figure out whether or not Rachel was joking.

"Quinn. My name is Quinn Fabray."


	3. Right After Nine

**I wrote most of this the week, if not the day, after I updated. Then I killed, murdered, slaughtered "Don't You Know" and I was too down on myself to continue. However, I like this story. I'm trying to finish it (properly) before I leave for training. Just...lemme know exactly what you think. What's wrong with it, what's right. Should I continue?**

* * *

It could have been awkward. It should have been awkward. Yet, standing in Quinn's apartment for the first time, barely knowing the woman, Rachel didn't feel even an ounce of the awkward she had felt outside of the apartment.

The apartment was too homey, too comfortable to feel anything but welcome once inside of it. There were pictures of Beth everywhere—on the walls, on the tables, on the TV. Sometimes they featured Quinn and sometimes they featured other women—two other women, specifically. There was a pretty blonde with bright blue eyes along with a darker woman, possibly Latina. She had much darker eyes, darker than even Rachel's. The singer could admire the slight hint of bitchiness she caught from one photograph in particular. She probably wouldn't have noticed it if she wasn't a raving bitch herself—it was a 'takes one to know one' kind of feeling.

Rachel found it amusing, how she was wandering around the living room area so casually as if she was a common addition to the home. She couldn't help it, however, and Quinn certainly wasn't complaining. The brunette took that as a good sign and continued discovering what it must be like to have a close family.

Her fathers had placed photographs around the house in a similar manner way back when, only their picture frames had been more… interesting than were Quinn's. Rachel could remember the swirls of metal wrapping her memories in circles, in rectangles, in unknown formations. All different sorts of shapes had framed the smiles that were caught on paper forever. Rachel paused with her hand in midair, headed for a picture of Beth on the shore of a beach. She blinked, wondering if the memories of her own childhood were affecting her so strongly that she had replaced Beth for herself. Upon taking a second look, she realized that it was not the case.

"Quinn?" She turned around hesitantly, clearing her throat when she realized how rough her voice sounded. She wondered how long she'd been perusing the room since her voice had apparently had enough time to relax.

"Yes?" the blonde responded, poking her head from inside the kitchen.

"Would it be odd for me to ask where this photo was taken?"

At first, the other woman just tilted her head and squinted her eyes. The quirk in her lips made Rachel feel as if Quinn found her question humorous. "Cincinnati." A smile of fond memories blossomed on her face.

"That's what I thought," Rachel hummed and turned back towards the picture. "I frequented this particular beach as a child."

"Really?" Not having missed the surprise in the other woman's tone, Rachel turned around again to meet her gaze.

"Guess you really aren't a fan, then, because that's my hometown." She paused. She wasn't used to people genuinely not knowing who she was and she felt this odd sense of relief. "That or you're a really good actress and you're trying to lure me into a false sense of comfort."

The corner of Quinn's lip quirked upwards. "Still convinced that I'm a psycho stalker?"

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Rachel tried to hold back a smile. "More so that I'm not entirely _un_convinced." That was when she froze. Since when did Rachel Berry smile and laugh when it wasn't for the camera? Since when did her chest feel as if it wasn't being squeezed from all directions? Not only was Rachel possibly happy, she was terrified. Not enough to stop, but enough to warn her to move cautiously.

Quinn must have noticed the immediate change because the edge of her lip moved back in place and the smile faded. "Is something wrong?"

For the second time in only a few moments, Rachel cleared her throat. "No, no. Nothing is wrong. Sorry, I just… don't talk to people too often." Especially not strangers while in strange apartments under strange circumstances.

The smile, albeit a bit smaller, came back to Quinn's expression and she wiped her hands on her jeans before responding. "I guess it is kind of bizarre to be in a stranger's home, huh?"

Rubbing the back of her neck, Rachel forced out a chuckle. "You could say that."

Quinn nodded. "Excuse me for a minute," she pardoned herself and headed down the hallway. Rachel heard the soft groan of a door before the hum of Quinn's voice sounded, informing Beth that her dinner was ready. The high squeal that was Beth in her excited phase rang out and footsteps came pattering towards the kitchen.

"Mac and cheeeese!" the girl cheered with a large smile on her face. In that moment, Rachel pictured her heart as a candle. In the few hours that she'd known the girl, that candle had melted more and more. And it continued to melt now.

She wondered what would happen when the wax ran out.

Just as she was about to round the corner, Beth must have noticed Rachel because the girl spun around and her smile somehow managed to get even wider.

"Wachel! Awe you gonna stay for dinnew? It's mac and cheese! Mommy!" She turned to the taller blonde trailing behind. "Is Wachel gonna stay?"

Not sure if Beth's mother was comfortable with that arrangement, Rachel searched the older blonde's face for an answer. She wasn't even sure she wanted herself to stay. Then again, nothing about the situation was normal so…why change it now? Fortunately for Rachel, Quinn had no doubt picked up on her uncertainty.

"There's more than enough food for three."

"Yay!" Beth ran over to Rachel and grabbed her hand, dragging her into the kitchen.

"Mommy made my favowite tonight, Wachel! This is ouw kitchen, that's ouw fwidge." Rachel couldn't hide the smile forming if she wanted to. "It's too tall for me so mommy always has ta get me stuff. That's the table, only mommy says it's not a table. She thinks it's an island, but I think she's confused," she whispered the last part. "This is my spot bacause the chaiw has a chip wight hewe." She pointed to said chip. "Fwom when I lost this toof." Her finger found her mouth and was pointing to her front tooth. "It was an ack… axe-a-dent bacause mommy told me not to wun in the house but I did anyway. You can sit hewe." She pointed to the seat next to her own. "Bacause no one sits hewe 'cept Auntie S and she's not hewe wight now."

"Beth," Quinn's voice entered the tour, "why don't we let Rachel sit down, okay?" Upon Beth's lower lip jutting out in protest, Rachel unconsciously ruffled the girl's hair and agreed with her mother.

"We have to sit down before we can eat, right?"

Refusing to be proven wrong, Beth merely strengthened her pout and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm only sitting bacause I want to," she declared as she clambered up the chair. The way her legs hung off the edge was endearing and dammit all if Rachel just wanted this moment to never end. She wanted that a lot, of late.

The pout dropped from Beth's face the moment her gaze was met with a bowl of mac and cheese. She happily started digging in and even kicked her feet lightly as she chewed. A pleasant hum sounded and Rachel could tell Beth was on her own personal cloud nine. That made two of them.

* * *

Watching Rachel traipse through her living room wasn't how Quinn expected to spend her evening. Then again, a lot of things had happened recently that Quinn hadn't expected and so she was willing to go with the flow. It intrigued her to watch the brunette slowly move from picture to picture, as if she was trying to figure something out. Maybe she was.

It should bother Quinn that her daughter was so obsessed with Rachel, and it should bother her even more that Rachel seemed to have formed a bond with her daughter in turn. The puzzling thing is that she wasn't. With how protective she had been for the past few months, Quinn didn't want to admit it… but part of her was grateful for the reprieve. It wasn't that Beth was always throwing a tantrum, because she certainly wasn't, she just wasn't always so easy to handle.

Once she'd seen Rachel sing to her daughter, though, Quinn knew something was different. Beth simply didn't take to strangers. She just didn't. And yet, she took to Rachel as if she were… well, mac and cheese. Heaven knew that girl loved mac and cheese, which was why Quinn had made it for dinner.

She had planned it earlier, sincerely hoping it would calm her daughter down were she to have another tantrum. Granted, it was probably more than a simple tantrum but Quinn had a feeling that if she gave it just a little more time, Beth would be better. Did she regret not doing anything earlier? Absolutely. She hadn't realized it would get to the point that it had. The thing was that, right now, Beth was acting different. Well, technically, Beth was _not_ acting different. She was acting like she used to, before Emily came and left. Well, left was a terrible replacement term for death, but a lot of things were fucked up in life. Screw it.

A week. Quinn would give it a week. Whether the change in demeanor was due to Rachel or whether Beth would have returned to normalcy regardless, Quinn was thankful for the change. Whatever the answer turned out to be, if Beth had another attack anytime this week as bad as the other night, she would have to take her to see someone.

It wasn't until Beth gave Rachel the tour that it truly hit Quinn how comfortable her daughter was with the other woman. Hell, how comfortable _she_ was with her, seeing as she allowed her daughter to hold Rachel's hand and drag her around. How she invited her into her apartment, not knowing much about her besides the fact that she was famous on Broadway and sang to her daughter in an elevator.

Quinn wondered if maybe she wasn't a little bit insane as well.

"Beth, why don't we let Rachel sit down, okay?" Quinn asked as much in an attempt to save Rachel from her daughter. Not that Rachel looked like she necessarily wanted to be saved, but Beth needed to eat anyway.

Of course that pout came out, but Quinn couldn't have been happier about it because it wasn't the pout that led to crying and kicking. Instead, it was the "why do adults have to be so mean?" pout. Quinn couldn't even formulate words because her throat suddenly felt thick, as if something was stuck in the back of it. She was choking on her own air because her daughter was acting _normal._ Because of _Rachel._

"We have to sit down before we can eat, right?"

And Rachel was handling the girl perfectly.

* * *

"So, wait—let me get this straight. First, this random woman practically saves your daughter from having a meltdown in the elevator. Then, that very same woman shows up at your apartment to return Beth's _very_ replaceable hairclip. And, instead of thanking her politely and sending her on her merry Berry way, you invite her in?"

"Well, when you say it like that it sounds—"

"Q, please tell me you got laid."

"Santana!" Quinn snapped her gaze toward her daughter, who was happily smashing the round end of her cat-shaped spoon against the top layer of her bowl of cheerios. Granted, the motion was unnecessary because she highly doubted her daughter could hear anything through the phone receiver from across the room, but still. "Was that really necessary?"

The laugh from the other end of the line earned an eye roll from the blonde. "I'm just saying. I mean, she's apparently some kind of star, right? You could always shack her up for some kind of sugar momma situation, worst case scenario."

"I cannot believe you just said that," Quinn walked over to the island when she saw that Beth had gone a little crazy with the splashing of the milk. "It wasn't like that at all, and it still isn't," she said as she wiped away the milky puddles that had formed around the bowl. The eyebrow raise she sent her daughter immediately ended the drumming solo. "I get that she's a stranger and that this whole ordeal is really odd, but she gives off this vibe that I can't explain."

"I'm pretty sure that vibe you're feeling is an 'I want you in my bed, right now,' kinda feeling. And, personally, I say go for it. I've already basically stalked her shit—thank god for the internet—and I gotta say, shorty got some damn fine legs."

"S!" Quinn hissed, blood rushing to her face. She gave her daughter one last look before heading to a different room for a more private conversation. "Stop being so… _crass._ You know how Beth has been lately. I swear, it's as if nothing happened when Rachel's around. She hasn't done anything out of the ordinary since Rachel showed up yesterday. She even woke me up this morning, like she used to."

Santana stayed silent for a moment as she took in the information. She could imagine the smile the blonde must be sporting at the moment, thinking about Beth being happy.

"Do you have any future plans with her, or is her presence in your life over?"

Quinn debated on how to answer before admitting the truth. "She offered tickets to a Broadway show, which Beth accepted, of course. Not that she even knows what a Broadway show is," Quinn sighed.

"Tickets to go with her? Your daughter is totally replacing my position as wingman, Q." Santana paused. "Anyway, all joking aside, I'll stop teasing you about it. She has a boyfriend anyway."

"Boyfriend?"

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Rachel was happy to sleep alone. She was drained, both physically and mentally, and wanted nothing more than to just lie down, close her eyes, and sleep.

Earlier, she'd experienced something she hadn't experienced in a while and felt as if something had opened inside of her. It was as if she'd shut all of her old emotions into a box and only now were they slowly escaping through the keyhole. She partially feared this revelation, but she savored it even more. Something had changed and, with it, everything else seemed to be, too. Specifically, tonight was the first night in a long time that Rachel wanted to sleep _alone_. No David.

Typically, she'd be cold from the outside air and she'd search out his heat. She'd allow the ice in her heart to keep her body at an always-cool temperature. She needed to believe that she was just as indifferent on the outside as she was on the inside. Tonight, though, her body was warm, humming with excitement. Tonight, the coolness in the sheets wasn't a burden, but a comfort.

She could imagine lying with David's arm around her, usually leaving her feeling protected. At the moment, the protection would feel like one big plastic bag of smother. Quinn and Beth were doing something to her—they were affecting her in a way she didn't quite understand yet. At first, it had been obvious to Rachel that Beth was simply the symbol of the child that Rachel would never have. Not with David, anyway. She was beginning to realize that there had to be more to it, however. It wasn't _just_ Beth who was having an effect on her anymore.

She hadn't noticed until the smaller blonde had mentioned story time and another woman–Emily?–that Rachel had understood why Beth had said she didn't have a dad, and why she had said she couldn't lose her _other_ mother. She was shocked when it finally dawned on her.

The fact that Quinn liked women obviously didn't bother Rachel, but she couldn't honestly say it didn't have some effect on her. She'd seen the look on Quinn's face when Beth had said it, the almost-terror projected towards her daughter and then the cautious bite of the lip towards Rachel herself. "My dads used to read stories to me all the time," she'd said, ignoring the nerves in her stomach.

* * *

The next few days passed by like slugs on a sidewalk—painfully slow and gruesome to watch. Rachel could hardly bear to watch the auditions as each hopeful seemed impossibly worse than the last. Really, David did have a point in cheap films and poor actors. Luckily, she wasn't the only one who knew that and, regardless of her right to veto her future co-workers, they wouldn't have been picked anyway.

It was a few_ more_ days later that Rachel's week really picked up. Not only did Josh manage to bring her a coffee that didn't spill, but it was even warm. Then, they'd finally found some decent actors and most of the spots were filled.

The real highlight of her day, however, was when she received a phone call from a number she'd only added to her phone about a week ago.

"Quinn?" she answered on the second ring.

* * *

Standing on the sidewalk, Quinn tried to ignore the tight feeling in her chest as she squeezed her daughter's hand a little too forcefully. It wasn't completely her fault—her heart felt like muscles were surrounding all of its sides and each one was pulling the poor thing in a different direction. She couldn't say why she felt so nervous, she just did.

God, she was a mess.

The images of Rachel being, well, Rachel, and smiling at Beth filled her mind. Then Santana talking about the singer's boyfriend for over twenty minutes on the phone replayed. Beth's laughs, Emily's smiles, Rachel's voice. David.

She was certain she was a mess.

Quinn didn't want to admit it, but she felt something for the self-identified diva. What she could have played off as simple gratitude turned into a whole lot more. Not talking to the brunette for the week had pulled Quinn out of her fantasy world and back into reality.

She didn't know Rachel. She didn't know "the woman in the elevator." Rachel didn't know her, either. She didn't know Beth, didn't know Santana or Brittany.

They didn't know anything about each other. So why was Quinn so damn emotional about the whole ordeal? Yeah, Beth's attitude had improved since the incident. Hell, even the week without Rachel hadn't hurt any. Quinn wondered if maybe Beth had only needed a distraction in the first place. Emily had been around for a while, especially in the apartment. The memories had probably haunted the girl. But Rachel's presence must have given Beth new feelings about the place.

Now, instead of hearing Emily's voice reading a story at night, Beth heard Rachel's songs ghosting her ears.

But they'd only met twice. It was impossible, the effect this whole idea was having on Quinn and her daughter. It wasn't _right_, but Quinn couldn't think of something so helpful as _wrong_.

"Hi!"

The cheerful greeting brought Quinn out of her thoughts as she looked up to see the brunette that had been on her mind for some time.

"Hey," she replied casually, a small smile making itself known.

* * *

"Wachel!" Bright eyes lit up and Rachel looked down to meet them, laughing lightly as Beth wrapped her arms around her legs.

"Hey, kiddo." The nickname easily slipped out. It was not a word that she said often, if ever, but she said it nonetheless. "How are you?" She looked back up to Quinn and let her smile grow. She really had forgotten what it was like to have a friend. Granted, the friendship was new but that didn't make it any less meaningful.

"We've been pretty good," Quinn replied, looking down at her daughter. Rachel caught something in the look but decided to leave it for a later time.

"Well then, ready to head over?"

"Yea!" Beth yelled, "Wicked, wicked, wicked!"

* * *

"Does this happen often?"

Beth was passed out on her bed, tucked in while already asleep. It had surprised both women when the girl had simply slowed down when talking mid-sentence. Her eyes closed, head lolled, and she'd fallen asleep in moments.

"Not at all. I almost always have to calm her down somehow—she's a ball of energy." Quinn shook her head, biting her lip. "I don't understand."

"Must have been all the excitement," Rachel whispered, leaning away from the wall and heading out of the room. Quinn watched her leave, unsure of whether or not to take the leap.

"Hey, Rach," she called out quietly so as not to wake the little monster. "Did you wanna stay for a bit?"

* * *

Quinn was really pretty. No, she was beautiful, Rachel decided. If she had a halo, she'd be an angel. "Were you ever a model?" She turned her head to the side a little too much, falling into the back of the couch. It was comfy, leaning back on the armrest, but Rachel found it deceptively destabilizing.

It was worth it, though, because Quinn's lips curled upwards and the smile made her even more perfect. "No," she shook her head. "Why?"

"Because you look like one?" Rachel said-asked. _No_, she thought. Quinn didn't actually look like a model because models were too thin and always looked in need of a hamburger or something. _Oh, god._ Rachel couldn't believe her thoughts. She clearly meant to say a veggie burger. With soy cheese or whatever it was called. No meat involved.

She wondered if Quinn ate hamburgers.

"I take it back, you make models look ugly. Like… feet. Do you eat hamburgers?"

Quinn just laughed and Rachel felt her neck getting warm. Well, warmer than it already was.

"I guess _some_body is a lightweight," the blonde said, reaching over to push Rachel's glass as far away from the brunette as she could.

"Ex_cuse_ me," she scoffed, "three glasses of that size does not a lightweight make." Really, it didn't. They were large glasses. Like, really big. Like Beth's head big, Yea, that big.

Wait. Was Beth's head really that small? Rachel bit her lip—she needed a drink to figure this out.

"Don't even think about reaching for that glass, Rachel." Rachel cursed inwardly, curious as to when Quinn had become a psychic. Blushing, she realized that her hand was stuck in the air, aimed towards her glass.

"Why are you so mean?" All this did was bring out another laugh and, angelic or not, Rachel was beginning to despise that laugh. Okay, so it was closer to the way Beth pouted than actual loathing…

_Unadulterated loathing, for your—_

"Um, Rach?"

Rach. That was her name, only shortened. Missing the "el." Her daddy used to call her that. David did so a few times, only it was weird.

"You called me Rach," she mused aloud, stomach fluttering from the memory. Rach. _Rach._ Quinn's voice had this… tone to it. No, pitch? She took music lessons for years! Why didn't she know this word? It had a quality to it, yea. A really rich, really nice quality.

"You bursted into song."

Rachel nodded, not sure as to what the blonde was talking about. Unless she hadn't thought the song and had actually sung it. Oh, that was embarrassing.

Knowing what her face should look like, Rachel intended to give Quinn an accusatory glare. Really, she just looked like a child trying to come off as scary. "You're a cheater, with your wine and the not drinking of it."

"Oh, I'm drinking Rachel, I'm just not downing glass after glass."

Scoffing again, Rachel leaned forward until she fell over. Thank god she was on Quinn's couch. It was a really warm couch, weirdly enough. Her head felt as if it had fallen onto a heated blanket and not just a couch cushion. She looked up to tell Quinn that her couch was abnormally warm only to realize that the blonde _was_ the cushion. Well, at least she was comfy.

* * *

She'd merely started on her second glass when Rachel's head fell into her lap. About thirty seconds later, Quinn was filling up her third. She wasn't even sure she had tasted it, she drank it so fast. It was sour, either way.

There was no reason to feel the way she did. Rachel was a new friend who was a bit of a lightweight. She was being silly. What with the hamburger talk and all. What had that been about anyway? Quinn didn't even bother to try and figure it out, too caught up in Rachel's antics. The singer reminded her of a child, and she was definitely adorable. She hadn't known what possessed her to ask the other woman to stay, but she was grateful that she had.

She knew she needed to keep her distance, but the thought did nothing to comfort the blonde when she felt fingers on her thighs. Rachel had taken to drawing random patterns over her exposed skin, sending goose bumps all the way to her arms.

"Are you cold?" Rachel asked, bottom lip between her teeth. She looked so… goofy. Like Beth when she mixed two different types of cereal together.

"What are you drawing?"

Rachel whipped her head back down, as if the pattern had imprinted into Quinn's skin. "A squid, I think. Or, maybe an octopus." Unable to fathom why Rachel would possibly have sea monsters on her mind, Quinn shook her head. And squids _were_ sea monsters, what with their gross tentacles and beaks and all.

Maybe she shouldn't have drank that third glass as fast as she had.

"You can't be cold because you're too warm." The brunette nodded against her thigh as if it had been up for debate. In her mind, maybe it had been. For all Quinn knew.

"Hey, Rach?" She found herself using the nickname again in hopes the brunette would have the same reaction as last time.

"Yea?" Rachel turned around fully, her back now against the couch cushions.

Now that she was looking right up at Quinn, the blonde couldn't help but run her fingers through Rachel's long hair.

"Remember when you thought I was some creepy stalker?" Rachel merely nodded, eyes closing at the sensation of Quinn's fingers. Quinn imagined how she felt and hoped the brunette wouldn't fall asleep. "Well, I'm not. But Santana kind of is. Now, anyway."

Deciding Rachel's hum was a sign to continue, Quinn did so. "Can you tell me about David? Santana googled you and said he came up, but you've never mentioned him."

"I don't wanna," Rachel grumbled, turning into Quinn's stomach. "He's a stupid boy."

* * *

Rachel didn't want to talk about David and his status as her boyfriend. She didn't want to talk about how she had ignored two of his calls during the week. She definitely didn't want to talk about his career, either.

Quinn's hum of laughter flooded her senses again and she smiled into the fabric that was apparently smothering her. She didn't want to move, though, because, while a small part of her understood that she was encroaching on Quinn's personal space, a greater part of her didn't care. "Why?"

Rachel was silent as she thought of the best way to answer that. She also didn't really know the answer to begin with.

_Stupid_, she thought as she slowly replayed the last few years of her life. It was great, being drunk. It allowed this movie to spin in her head, a film disk. Or whatever it's called. That thing that spun with pictures and made a movie. Yea. Her dad used to have a camera like that. The name was on the tip of her tongue…

David, though. He was her friend, in a way. He had been at one point, at least. Hadn't he?

Rachel saw it happening; she saw the musical she'd been cast in, saw her lead take his stand. She watched as day after day they danced and sang and she found a slight comfort in his actions. And then the show was over and they woke up next to each other after the party.

There had been dates, cute gestures, etc. But there hadn't really ever been more to it, not really. At least, not in retrospect. She hoped he didn't have this secret love for her, somewhere deep down. She certainly didn't have it for him.

How did she feel about that? Well, Quinn sure was warm. And her shirt smelled good. God, why on Earth was she not drunk more often? She'd forgotten what it felt like to just relax for a bit.

"He's nice." There, that was a start. David was nice. He was caring, too. Reliable in many ways. "Dependable." Because whenever Rachel needed something, he had an answer for her whether she liked what it was or not.

There was a quiet 'hmm,' so Rachel continued.

She saw him smile at her, but the smile didn't really do much. His eyes didn't twinkle, there was no encompassing feeling of warmth that surrounded her at the sight. She didn't feel the passion she was always forced to act out on stage.

"He's kind of boring. Not his personality, just the way he lives." And he did live a boring life. It was almost odd, Rachel thought, how he had most of what he'd ever wanted, and he wasn't really enjoying it. He loved his job, yes, but that was really it. Then again, she seemed to be in the same boat. _Rock the boat…_

Rachel huffed.

"He's Italian." They'd have beautiful babies. They'd be tan, gorgeous, and they'd dance and sing all day long. But David didn't want kids. Ugh. Rachel had to wonder if she really wanted David.

"And he doesn't want kids." Did David even want Rachel? She pondered for a moment before concluding that maybe neither of them wanted the other. They weren't… well, _she_ wasn't happy. She wanted to feel how she felt right now, just all the time. And she didn't, not with David.

"Quinn," she said, sitting up. She didn't even know if Quinn had spoken in the past few minutes. Hell, how long had she been lying down?

"Yes?" The blonde looked amused as she leaned back against the armrest opposite Rachel.

"Is it weird? Me being here?"

Quinn tilted her head sideways as she bit her lip, contemplating. "No. I don't believe so."

Rachel wondered why Quinn seemed so composed. Maybe it was one of those things where she was drunk enough to think that Quinn was composed, but, really, she wasn't. She'd be left to ponder for years.

"Good." She nodded. "Because I like it. Being here."

* * *

It had been a few days since Quinn had spoken to Rachel. The blonde wasn't really sure what to say to the other woman, as she barely knew what she was supposed to be thinking at this point. As if there was some idea she was supposed to have by now.

She was at a loss.

Beth was basically back to normal, though she had asked about Rachel the night before. However, it was a simple question and not a pre-panic exultation, so that was good.

Her job was the usual, her day was typical, and her life was uneventful. She hated it. Not her life, her day, or her job—no, she hated that nothing seemed to be enough anymore.

The world was messing with her: First, she had a child so early in life, then she found out she was gay. Afterwards, she met Emily only for the other woman to die. Lastly, she met Rachel, some Broadway singer, and she was feeling things she'd never thought she'd feel again.

She loved Beth, had loved Emily, and feared that heading further into friendship with Rachel would add the brunette to her list.

It sucked.

Rachel had left the other night, driven home by her assistant, and Quinn had slept on the couch. She couldn't say why, but some part of her knew that Rachel's warmth had lingered there.

She was hopeless.

* * *

The movie was going great. There had been a mishap with a light but, otherwise, everything seemed to be working out.

She hadn't talked to David in over a week. He'd stopped calling two days ago and she wasn't up to calling him just yet. She'd have to do so sometime soon, though, she knew. She just didn't feel the need to talk to anyone lately. Well, that wasn't right. She hadn't really had the time to do so, nor the concentration. She hadn't even spoken to Quinn.

Quinn. She's pretty sure she remembers asking the blonde if she ate burgers, which, while slightly embarrassing, isn't too bad. Quinn hadn't said anything about it, at least. Well, she hadn't really had the chance _to_ say anything.

Rachel sighed. What was she supposed to do?

She liked acting because acting came with lines, with set actions. She liked knowing how things were supposed to pan out. With no plan, she felt disoriented. She'd never planned for anything like this to happen, whatever 'this' was.

Ugh.

At least the movie was going great.

* * *

Rachel felt chilled, as if her apartment had suddenly lowered in temperature by seven degrees. She held her phone in her hand and dialed numbers that seemed so foreign when put together. The line rang once, twice, before a low voice answered.

"Hello?"

The familiar timbre sent her heart into a frenzy. She couldn't even speak; she was choking on her emotions.

"Hello? Is anybody there?" the voice asked, clearly confused.

"Daddy?" She finally managed, terrified that he'd hang up and she wouldn't have the courage to call him again.

She'd done it on a whim. She meant to show up at her fathers' house unannounced but realized that maybe that wasn't the wisest of ways. She hadn't spoken to David nor Quinn in almost a week and her assistant…well, she could only handle him in small amounts. She needed something and she felt that maybe this conversation was it.

The line was silent for a moment before her father replied, a mix of emotions in his voice.

"Rachel?"

Beth had absolutely messed up Rachel's heart, had opened it up to finally see things again. Quinn had, too, though less obviously. But right now, she felt her father was about to break down that last piece of ice, melt that last bit of candle. She was looking forward to it.

"Yea, it's me."

* * *

Quinn watched as Beth laid on the couch, back to the cushions and legs in the air, falling over the back of the furniture. Her blonde curls reached for the ground, swinging with each giggle the girl released. The TV was set on some cartoon that Quinn couldn't name at the moment, but she knew it was one of Beth's favorites.

Her throat felt tight and she pushed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, swallowing. It was just…it had been so _long_ since this was a completely normal sight. She hadn't given it a second look at first. Now, however, she was just awestruck. She was content, and warm.

She wasn't _worried_.

The ringing of her phone tore her away from her view.

"Quinn Fabray," she answered, disoriented that there was a reality beyond her thoughts.

"Hey, it's me," came Rachel's voice. "So, I was wondering if you were free tomorrow afternoon?"

* * *

Rachel made sure to keep her back straight as she plugged her key into David's apartment. He'd likely be making breakfast about now, seeing as he knew she was headed over to talk. More likely, he'd have at least prepared coffee.

She found it funny that she didn't feel any dread for the conversation to come. It was weird, how fast things had changed for her in the grand spectrum of things. It'd been a little over two weeks, but it had been a very enlightening time for her.

Turning the key, she opened the door and stepped into the apartment for what she knew would be the last time. She suddenly hoped he hadn't prepared breakfast because her stomach sprang into a knot. She'd accepted a long time ago that their relationship was no love for the ages, but they were still close, if not in the traditional sense.

There would still be change, and change was always disconcerting at first.

When she stepped into the kitchen area, she found him reaching into a cabinet. He wore a t-shirt and sleeping pants and she wished it could be enough. She wished that seeing that sight every morning would be enough—that seeing him would make her feel the way it was supposed to.

She sighed and cleared her throat.

He turned to her and closed the cabinet.

"I suppose you're here to officially call it quits?" He waved his hand over to the table where two mugs sat, likely filled with coffee. The casual way he ran his hand through his hair comforted Rachel. This hadn't started as she'd expected. She hadn't expected a blow up, certainly, but she hadn't known that he'd…know.

"Should I trust that you haven't poisoned my drink?" She'd ask about his apparent foresight, but she figured that it was likely from the whole ignore-you-for-two-weeks-and-then-say-we-need-to-t alk aspect.

"I'd be more likely to put dairy in it than poison you," he smiled crookedly. And there it was, their friendship. The one that she figured probably shouldn't have become a relationship.

After sitting down, she found she couldn't _not_ ask, "How'd you know?"

He chuckled. "I didn't _know,_ but I'd guessed. And _this_—" he pulled his laptop over and showed her the screen, "gave me an idea."

Rachel blinked at the picture.

"Sometimes, I think you forget that you're famous."

It was of the picnic Rachel had gone on with Quinn and Beth the other day. Beth was crouched down, a crown of dandelions adorning her head, picking the grass for something that Rachel couldn't remember. Rachel was watching Beth, a smile on her face, and Quinn… Quinn was watching Rachel.

Oh.

"Oh."

* * *

There was no way that one picture changed anything. The eight pictures after it, on the other hand, told Rachel a whole lot more than what she'd picked up on. Somehow, she managed to be looking at Beth or Quinn in every. single. one.

Quinn had done the same, either looking at Rachel, or Beth, or both. Her face in each one was stupidly angelic. Literally, she looked absolutely stunning in every photo. It was unfair, and it made Rachel's stomach flutter with what she told herself was nerves. She was nervous because she wasn't sure how Quinn would react to the photos, and that was it. Because it couldn't be what she feared it was, because that would be silly.

Because it wasn't…_that._ It couldn't be.

She had left David's apartment with a final goodbye and a reassurance that he wasn't mad, or upset, or hurt in the slightest. He was even willing to keep up the friendship, but they both knew it probably wouldn't happen, what with busy schedules. They figured maybe they'd see each other at some big parties for something. Who knew?

But now she had to call Quinn, because of the photos. On the plus side, at least the written portion of the article (Previous Fiend on Friendly Picnic?) didn't say she was a demon baby-eater that was simply setting a trap. _Noooo_, the author was far more elegant than that. She simply had stated that maybe Rachel's demon horns were beginning to melt, and that maybe she _wasn't_ the raving bitch she had been for years.

She sighed because, really, had she actually expected any better?

At least Beth had looked adorable. There was always that.

* * *

Quinn wasn't sure how her daughter had convinced her to sit down and let her style her hair, but she figured the laughter was worth it. Or, she did until there was a knock at the door. Then she realized that her hair was a disaster and she forced herself to suck it up. Grabbing a giggling Beth and holding her sideways, Quinn hefted the girl over to the door. Each step was accompanied with an "euh" sound from Beth. Even though it gave her the creeps—so many horror movies gone wrong—Quinn peeked through the peephole to see who was dropping by.

"Shit," she mumbled, seeing it was Rachel. Well. If ever a time there was to humiliate herself, now would be it.

As she opened the door, Rachel's eyebrow raised and Quinn could tell that she was biting on the beginning of a smile.

"Yeah, yeah, haha. Get your laughs, Rach." Quinn shifted her daughter in her arms and raised her up, "Because you're next."

The brunette's eyes widened as she looked first at Quinn and then at Beth, who just smiled happily.

"I make you look weally pwetty, Wachel. Just like momma!"

"Babe, Rachel's hair is _so_ long. You're probably going to need more hair ties." Quinn turned and started walking towards Beth's room to do just that. Looking back real quick, she smirked at her friend who looked like she suddenly regretted showing up unannounced.

* * *

"Wachel, stop movin'!" Beth squealed when Rachel snapped her gaze over to Quinn and glared. She mouthed 'I hate you,' but it had no bite. Mostly she was just glad she'd double-conditioned this morning.

She hadn't known what to expect, showing up randomly. Calling ahead would have secured her plan, but part of her wanted to see what would happen if she just…appeared. There was always the chance that Quinn wouldn't be home, and so she'd have to postpone telling the blonde about the photos.

Yet, the sight she was greeted with was worth the possible upset over the photos. Quinn's hair was tied in loops, a few braids, and—she was pretty sure—a few knots. Of course, it was less funny now that her own hair was at risk.

"So, besides Beth's newfound career as a hairstylist, any particular reason for stopping by?" Quinn asked, setting a glass of water down that she hadn't seen the blonde get up for to get.

"Well, yes, actually." She looked down at her hands only to receive a tug from Beth and another warning to stop moving. "I was at David's earlier—" she thought she noticed Quinn sit up straighter, "and he pulled up a page online. Turns out someone took pictures of our picnic."

When Quinn remained silent, Rachel continued. "I'm sorry, Quinn. Sometimes when I'm with you two I forget that I'm Rachel Berry, and not just Rachel."

At this, Quinn shook her head and gave Rachel a look the brunette couldn't decipher. "Can I see the pictures?"

Rachel ran her tongue over her teeth and asked to see Quinn's laptop. Once she opened the internet, she quickly typed in the page address and the picture popped up, along with the article. Passing the laptop back over, Rachel tried to ignore the fact that Quinn's knee was touching hers. It wasn't anything to give a second thought to, yet she found herself focusing on that one point of contact. She inwardly cursed David.

Quinn "hmm'd" as she went through each picture, and Rachel watched as her eyebrow rose. "Are you reading the article now?" she guessed.

Quinn looked up and made eye contact, scorching Rachel with pure hazel. "I am, indeed." She smiled with the corner of her mouth. "And this author seems rather intelligent."

Rachel gasped. "She said I've given up my child-eating ways! She's an idiot."

"Ah, but she also said that you'd chosen beautiful company. Are you saying she's wrong?"

Rachel opened her mouth to retaliate but froze. Even Beth stopped her ministrations, choosing to rest her hands on Rachel's scalp.

Rachel gave up, crossing her arms under her chest and pouting. "Whatever."

Quinn just smiled in victory while Beth giggled.

Her pride wounded, Rachel perked back up. "You know, she also said that we could be the latest scandal and that I'm cheating on David with you. Still a fan?"

The moment she said it, she wanted to take it back. Quinn's smile dropped and they looked at each other for a quiet moment. This guarded expression came over Quinn's face as she asked, "What did David say about it?"

Surprised by the question, Rachel wanted to look away and shrug, but she found she couldn't break her gaze from Quinn. Something was happening in this moment, and she didn't know what it was. She completely forgot about Beth sitting behind her, messing with her hair. She forgot about being famous, and about her dads. She probably would've forgotten about David if Quinn hadn't just asked after him, too.

"He said you were beautiful, and that…" Rachel's voice got low and she wasn't sure what was about to pop out of her mouth. She hadn't ever felt what she was currently feeling, but Quinn was looking right back at her and there were so many thoughts swirling in her eyes. So many emotions that Rachel didn't understand.

"And that…?" Quinn pushed.

"And that I should—" Rachel was cut off by the sound of Quinn's phone ringing. The blonde closed her eyes and took a deep breath before getting up to answer. Rachel felt like she had just woken up from something—the feeling of hands in her hair spooked her. Her heart was beating erratically and, somehow, Quinn had disappeared. She vaguely understood that Quinn was in the kitchen with her phone, answering the damned device that ripped them from their own private world.

"Mr. Shuester?"

Rachel decided then and there that this Shoe-rooster guy was out to ruin her life.


	4. Heading On 60

**A few words. First, sometimes I forget that you guys can't read my mind. I looked back and thought to myself "Where the hell are my 'thank you so much for your reviews'?" Because, really, your reviews are what I write for. So, if you left one, know that it made me smile. Know that you review motivated me to write this, and try to forgive me for forgetting that you're not all mind-readers.**

**Second, I'm literally leaving for Army Basic Training today and I'm actually running late because I had to finish this story. Because I'm at my best when I'm pressed for time :)**

**Third, here's the end. I don't know if it's rushed but I've had the actual ending planned since this story's creation.**

**Last, not only is this completely un-beta'd, but I haven't even read through it. Like, I literally wrote this, I'm posting it, and then I'm leaving the moment it's up. I'm in the process of 6 other stories at the moment, and I'll post the beginning of one up right now. **

**I lied, this is the last note. Feel free to leave me reviews (that I will hold oh so dearly to my heart when I get back from basic).**

**I lied again, this is my last note, honest. Do me the biggest favor in the world and read this fic:**

** s/8996690/1/All-That-s-Best**

**Maybe it's because I have a thing for historical Faberry (Princesses, or in this case Duchesses), but it's spectacular. Give it a huge go. (My ulterior motives are that you guys will love it and review and so she'll update more and so when I get back from training it'll be finished for me).**

* * *

Quinn hadn't heard from Shuester in years. While her relationship with him had never been as close as other members of the glee club, she _had_ considered him one of her favorite teachers. In a way, she'd appreciated him more so because of his imperfections. He'd occasionally go on a rant or do something completely unorthodox, but it taught her that not even adults had their lives figured out. For a sixteen year old girl, that had meant a lot. It had given her insight as to what her parents were doing wrong—that they were able to _do_ wrong in the first place.

Inadvertently, Mr. Shuester had helped her cope, especially during her senior year.

Still, it was odd that he had called her—especially when the call wasn't even really about her.

At first, she couldn't really believe what she was hearing, but then she remembered that he was still Shuester, and that meant he was sometimes oblivious. Of course he'd seen pictures of her online, but particularly of her and Rachel Berry. Who happened to be on Broadway, he mentioned. She rolled her eyes, frowning in Rachel's direction as the man went on about how great it would be if Quinn could get Rachel to visit the current Glee Club.

"Really, Quinn, I think that it would be an experience they'd never forget, if she's willing." Quinn wondered if the experience would be for the club or for Shuester, but she knew it was probably both.

Either way, she basically spent the rest of the short conversation telling him she'd mention it but there were no promises. Was it crossing a line to ask Rachel to talk to high school kids, especially ones she'd never met? Sure, she'd had a decent group of people in the club during her time, but who knew what the kids would be like today? Plus, though she was much closer to Rachel now, she wasn't sure how she'd even approach the subject.

Ending the call, Quinn walked back over to her spot across from Rachel and said, "Well, that was interesting."

* * *

"Your high school Glee Club teacher called you to ask if we were friends?" Rachel cocked her head to the side, oddly amused. It was fortunate that the mood in the room had changed because her heart had finally stopped feeling like she was an 80 year old running a marathon. Beth was still behind her, located on the couch, but she had stopped playing with Rachel's hair and had instead opted to take a nap.

Quinn's cheeks turned a light shade of pink as she rolled her eyes from her position across from Rachel. "Yea, well. Apparently I'm the only one in the world who didn't recognize you."

As she hummed, Rachel gave Quinn a look. "So what'd he want that you seemed so hesitant about?"

Quinn paused as she ran her hand through her hair before looking anywhere but at her friend. Unless he had asked for something inappropriate—which she highly doubted, though part of her would've seen the humor in it—Rachel didn't understand Quinn's reluctance. She had a guess as to what he'd asked, from listening to Quinn's responses, but she wasn't sure how correct those assumptions were.

"For you to visit and talk to his club, but, as you likely heard, I told him that you—"

"I'd love to go." The words were out of her mouth before Rachel even had time to think them, and she was taken aback.

Quinn, apparently in no better condition, blinked a few times at the statement. "Rach—"

"I already had a trip planned for Cincinnati to visit my fathers." She talked too fast to understand where her brain was taking her. "Lima can't be that far away, right? It'll be like a mini vacation in an already mini vacation. Unless…you think I should _not_ go, that is. In which case, that's no big deal," she finished realizing that maybe Quinn wouldn't _want _her to go to Lima.

"No! That's not how I meant it, I just… Are you sure?" The blonde went back to rubbing her hand over her neck. It was obvious she didn't want to ask Rachel to do it, as if she thought it was too much to ask, but there was a definite hope somewhere in there and Rachel could sense it.

"He wants me to visit to inspire the kids in the club, right? To show them that their time spent there might not be a complete waste?" She wished her choir teacher had done the same for her. Sure, most people in her school recognized her talent, but it wasn't as if she'd had anyone to talk to about it. No one in her school had been able to relate, not really. For most of her peers, singing had been a side thing, something to get extra credit for.

"Yeah, that sort of thing. He took us to New York when I was there. I guess he wants you to talk to them, maybe sing something. I'm not one hundred percent sure—he's kind of unpredictable at his best."

It was funny, Rachel thought. Most of her life she'd spent worrying about her own dreams. Having a destination—or just a plan in general—had been something Rachel had always had in her back pocket. Broadway aside, because that had always been her main goal, she'd had a list of things to accomplish since she could write. At first, it would be things like winning a dance competition, or being chosen to sing the national anthem. Sometimes it was as simple as being the first one in class to finish the book the teacher had chosen. Whatever it was, she had written it down and made it happen.

Freshman year of high school, her goal had been to fit in and make friends. Sophomore year, it had been to form a Show Choir. Junior year, it was to make it to Nationals, which led to Senior year's goal of getting into NYADA. Of course, not all of her ambitions had become realities. While not ostracized, she'd had very few friends in high school. Part of it was by choice, and part was because she was simply more mature than her peers at the time.

When it came to NYADA, she'd made plans to star in the school's plays and musicals, and she had. She'd made plans to audition for off-Broadway shows, too, and she'd even snagged a role during her Freshman year.

By the time college had finished, she'd run out of plans because she'd simply accomplished any that she had ever had.

Except one.

And that one hadn't been given much focus because it was something she had figured would come with time. Then, senior year of college had come and she'd given up the goal completely.

So it was funny because now she wasn't worrying about her own goals—now she was thinking about these kids in a Glee Club that she hadn't even met yet. She was picturing herself in high school, with a Broadway star visiting her and telling her that she was worth something. Not that she was comparing herself, but she pictured Barbra visiting her and…how much she could've used that visit, or a visit similar to.

"Every dreamer could use a few words, Quinn, whether they're spoken or sung. And, if this club is similar to how it was when you were there, I think I'll like it a lot."

* * *

They'd been so close to something, Quinn knew. Before Shuester called, something was about to happen. She couldn't say what, exactly, but something would've changed. Part of her hoped while another part of her tried to protect itself. She wasn't a wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve type of person. It had taken time for her to let anyone in, even Brittany and Santana had had to worm their way in after years.

Yet, Rachel made her feel as if she did more than that—she felt like she was waving around a flag, wearing a shirt, singing a freaking _song_, that expressed how she was feeling at all times. She was slightly terrified, if one could be terrified only slightly. She wasn't a cold person, not anymore, but she did like to think she was at least partly in control of things. Any Rachel wasn't helping with that aspect of her life.

Just as she was driving herself deeper into her thoughts, Beth brought her back to reality.

"Mommy, when awe we leavin'?"

"Three more days, babe," she answered, chewing her lip now that she thought about it.

She still couldn't believe the turn of events, but she was no longer fighting herself over it. The brunette had insisted that she had already been planning on traveling back to Cincinnati but Quinn held onto her reservations. Yes, she'd been spending more time with the other woman, but she wasn't sure if bringing Rachel to her hometown was something she should do. It wasn't as if she was opposed to the idea, at least not inherently. She just…it was odd.

How many times she'd replayed her situation over and over in her mind was getting out of hand. In a relatively short amount of time, her life had been flipped over only to be re-flipped over and then dropped into a bucket of paint and splattered all over the place.

It was personal, Rachel coming to her hometown. It was as if it solidified...something.

It changed everything.

Yet, there was still so much they had to learn about each other.

Yes, Quinn knew _things_ about Rachel; they hadn't simply talked about Beth the whole time. Quinn knew Rachel's favorite color was pink, much to the brunette's chagrin. "I _try_ not to like it," she'd said. "It's such a childish, girly color for me to like, but I just _can't._ It's just this color that makes me happy every time I see it, unfortunately." Quinn had laughed at the woman's pout, amused at her obvious disappointment with herself.

Quinn also knew that Rachel had forgone her vegan diet for a year of college and had substituted it with a vegetarian diet because she was the average poor college student trying to make it by. Turned out, Quinn hadn't been alone in her Ramen noodle ways.

She knew that Rachel had two dads, completely gay and in love with each other, and that they probably believed in happy endings more than Rachel herself did. That little tidbit had almost been missed, but the blonde had caught on to the wistful edge of Rachel's voice. "Sometimes I think that my fathers would make better Disney Princesses than me."

And then—and this had been garnered earlier that night after she'd ended the call with Shuester—she'd found out that Rachel had a soft spot for dreamers. She wanted to visit a high school where kids fought against the odds.

So Quinn didn't know much about Rachel, and she was looking forward to learning more, but she knew that Rachel visiting her high school meant more to Rachel than just visiting a high school.

And she was willing to see what that meant for them.

* * *

A few nights after leaving Quinn's apartment, Rachel's self-denial had simply given up pretending. She plopped onto her bed, huffing to herself as she tossed and turned all night, unable to find a position comfortable enough for her mood. The bed was too warm, her pillow too cold, her arms too in the way, and her hair too in her face. Her legs were too unwillingly to stay still and her eyes too unwillingly to stay shut.

Slamming her head into her pillow, Rachel groaned at herself. Her feelings and thoughts were beginning to overwhelm her. Part of her continually berated herself for talking to Beth in the first place. For trying to console the girl with words. For allowing the kid to cling to her. For using her voice and singing to her.

In other words, for having a soul again.

Life was much easier to live without a soul. It was so much easier to live without the wish of having wishes. She hated herself for not simply handing Beth off and never talking to the family again. She hated herself for not seeing the hairclip as it fell and for not giving it to Beth while still in the elevator.

She hated that Quinn was this beautiful person that she didn't think could ever exist in the world.

She hated that Quinn's favorite food, to this day, was a peanut butter and jam sandwich (because jelly reminded her too much of plasma and the gel they'd put on her belly when they'd sonogram'd her).

She hated that Quinn's favorite color was yellow because it was bright and reminded her of laughter, and that it was Beth's first word.

Rachel hated that Quinn had choked up a little when Elphaba was verbally abused by Glinda, that she'd given her daughter this look of apprehension for the girl's future, because Quinn had seen too many people broken by the words of her peers when she was young.

Rachel hated that all of these facts just made her chest fill with this weird warmth and tightness that she couldn't explain. She hated that she had never been as happy as when she sat across from the blonde as Beth played with her hair. That she'd never felt so content to just _be_—in the moment and in life.

She hated that she was pretty sure she was falling, just a little bit, for Quinn because she was finally admitting it to herself and she might as well have just stuck a knife in her chest because it fucking _hurt._ It hurt, if Rachel was honest with herself, because Quinn was a woman.

She'd hated more that she loved what she was feeling, but she had never had to relive so many feelings all at once before.

She felt like she was back in high school, when the occasional douchebag would bump into her in the hallway and say "Loser." She could still feel the force of her books being shoved to the floor as someone whispered, "Oops. Can't hold down your books or a boyfriend." While not immediately traumatizing, it had stung enough to wound her. The worst one, on the other hand, wasn't even a good insult, yet she had never brushed it off as she had the others: "Faggots." It hadn't even been directly aimed at her, really. It was obviously intended for her fathers, but the one time that it was said to her was more than enough.

Being called a loser hadn't affected her much. The 'faggots,' though. She had been walking back to her locker and there it had been written thickly in permanent marker. She'd tried so hard not to cry, not in front of them. It had taken _so much_ out of her then.

Gasping, she finally managed to have _some_ semblance of a reaction, and the tears practically shoved themselves out. Her whole life she'd worked to prove…so many things. She fit so many stereotypes, and she tried so hard to work against them. Raised by gay parents _and_ on Broadway. Her favorite metaphor was the gold star—no, the pun had _not_ been lost on her. She was obsessed with New York and happened to be a vegan. There were more, and not all of them related to each other, but, in the end, the stress from maintaining all of them went to the same place. And that place was currently overflowing.

Throat tight, she scrambled to the kitchen for a glass and watched as the water quickly filled it up. Sitting in a chair, she laid her head on her arms and choked down…whatever feeling was overwhelming her. She took sips between thoughts and stared at the meniscus of water, tilting the glass to watch it move and stick to a different part of the glass. She felt as if parts of her got stuck like that, and she wondered who would help _her_ get unstuck.

After about half an hour, she placed her finished cup in the sink and rubbed her eyes. It sucked, accepting the truth. But she wasn't in high school anymore and she knew better now. Now, she didn't have to fear rude slurs in hallways or invitations for threeways. Sure, she had the world to deal with, but what the fuck else was new?

Reaching for her phone, she sent Josh a text to book two extra flights to Cincinnati. She added that he was on paid leave for the next fifteen days, but she refrained from telling him to spend that time with his son. She doubted he knew that she knew about Nathan.

A wry smile formed on her lips as she thought back to why she'd hired Josh in the first place. He'd had no experience, he was a mumbling, nervous mess at his interview, and he was often a car wreck waiting to happen. But she'd had every interviewee background checked and there had been a picture of his son, smiling from his spot on top of Josh's shoulders. So he'd been a terrible choice, but how was she supposed to turn down a struggling father? Especially when he was so young and his wife, who he'd married in high school, had died during childbirth.

_Spend the time wisely,_ she texted him instead. Why let him know she had a heart?

* * *

Though the week went by pretty fast for Quinn—she was always either working or spending time with Rachel and/or Beth—she realized a few things about her situation: Rachel would come over almost every night, cancelling only when her work went too late.

The first time the brunette had called, Quinn hadn't expected the jolt of disappointment she'd felt.

The second time, she had been a little less shocked.

It wasn't until Rachel called to say she'd be early that Quinn knew for certain.

The blonde wasn't oblivious to her feelings, but she almost wished she was.

* * *

Between working on set for long hours so that she could have it finished by the time she left and spending time with Quinn, Rachel couldn't wait to have some free time. Because it was so low budget, it was moving along extremely fast, and Rachel was happy with the progress. It wasn't as if the movie was going to be a huge hit, but it certainly wasn't going to be cringe-worthy, which is all she really cared about in the end.

The part she most enjoyed about everything was that the cast got along really well. She hadn't been around people so genuinely…well, genuine, in a long time. Everyone wanted to be there and it was strange for Rachel. She was used to at least a few people who put up attitude, and she wouldn't deny that sometimes she was that person. It was all for the best, she supposed, because, at the very least, there would be some nice onscreen chemistry, and that wasn't an easy stunt to pull.

However, when it came to the trip, Rachel was pathetically nervous.

It was seeing her fathers that had her all scrambled up inside. Part of her wanted to cry, thinking of their familiar, but also not so familiar, faces. Another part of her wanted to laugh for the same reason. She ended up just swallowing a lot and hoping that she wouldn't turn into a complete mess when she saw them. Then she figured the likelihood of that wasn't in her favor.

In order to prevent the full on panic mode she knew she'd face soon enough, Rachel had decided to spend most of her free time with Quinn. She tried to tell herself if was for Beth's sake, and in part it still probably was, but she found out that lying to herself didn't work for very long. Sighing, she knocked on Quinn's door, as she had already walked over from work, and leaned against the wall. Her brain really needed to stop thinking.

By the time Quinn answered the door, Rachel's _mind_ had calmed down, but then the rest of her…didn't. She told herself that if Quinn would just not smile so beautifully she wouldn't be trapped every time she saw the blonde. Then again, if it wasn't her smile, it would be her eyes. If not her eyes, surely it would be her laugh. If not her laugh then…well, there was no end, really.

Never having had feelings for a friend before, or a woman in general, Rachel didn't really know how to handle to situation. Quinn hadn't seemed to suspect anything, on the plus side, so Rachel was more than willing to just ignore her thoughts for the time being. Had she not been an actress, she would've been screwed.

"Hey," Quinn greeted, that glorious smile in place.

"Hi Wachel." Beth poked her head out from between her mother's legs before reaching for Rachel's hand and yanking her over to a spot on the floor. "Will you play with me? Mommy's busy."

Looking down, Rachel turned to Quinn with her eyebrow raised. "You own Candy Land?"

* * *

"I don't know what you find so funny." Rachel sat by the board game, chin lifted in the air. Quinn rolled her eyes at the dramatics and chuckled.

"You know, I never took you for a poor sport." Granted, Beth's reign of Candy Land terror had left Rachel with six rounds of defeat and not a single win. Still, the brunette was proving to be incredibly terrible at pretending to take the losses well. At least she'd remained stoic until Beth left.

"I never took you for the type to teach you daughter to cheat!" Rachel glared at Quinn and crossed her arms.

"You're joking, right? You're insufferable," the blonde replied, smile in place. She started packing up the game, folding the board into its half-then-half-again style. Rachel joined in and packed all of the cards back into one pile.

"Besides, Rachel Berry does not lose. She admits defeat gracefully."

Snorting, Quinn put the box cover on and mumbled under her breath, "Yeah, the grace of a one-legged elephant, maybe."

"What was that?"

* * *

"Don't take this the wrong way, but this is not how I pictured Beth's reaction to being in an airplane." Rachel twisted around in her seat and her head was slightly cocked to the side as she watched Beth's sleeping form to her left. Beth had insisted on the window seat, which left the two middle seats, slightly angled toward each other, for Quinn and Rachel. It worked out, seeing as Beth had passed out five minutes later. At least they both had someone to talk to now, instead of only having Beth to stare at. Not that it wouldn't have been endearing…but it wasn't worth over two hours of staring. Well, not without looking incredibly creepy.

Quinn just chuckled. "Well, thank you for thinking my daughter was going to go batshit crazy." The gleam in her eyes gave Rachel reason to shake her head and return the smile.

"You know what I meant. I expected a little more enthusiasm for the clouds, and the sky, and stuff." She waved her arms at _stuff_, looking completely ridiculous.

"I take it somebody loved flying as a kid, huh?" Quinn teased, picturing little Rachel pointing at the window and screaming to her dads about the clouds and the little people. She couldn't say that the idea wasn't adorable.

"What kind of kid doesn't enjoy flying?" Rachel couldn't fathom being a child on a plane and not staring out the window for at _least_ half the trip. Hell, she usually did that as an _adult_.

There was a comfortable silence for a few moments before Quinn looked back over to Rachel and spoke. "You know, I'm still not sure how I feel about you paying for our tickets."

Rachel rolled her eyes as she had earlier when Quinn had brought up the issue.

"How many times must I tell you? First, I had way too many points so your flight was free anyway. Second, you're only in this plane because of me. Third, I eat all of your food these days anyway. Think of it as an inadvertent way of paying for your groceries."

Quinn paused before asking, "Did you _breathe?_"

"Please, Quinn. I'm on Broadway; I have excellent breath control."

For a while after that, Rachel just relaxed in her seat and chose to think about her week. While she'd spent a majority of her time on the small set she had been working with, she'd seen Quinn almost every day. After the photographs online, they'd mostly chosen to stay inside. Unexpectedly, Quinn had told Rachel that she hadn't minded having the pictures online, she just didn't want to have to worry about Beth in the grand scheme of things. She'd even laughed and said, "Not that I'll ever _stop_ worrying about her, but at least this is one less thing."

"Hey, Rach?" she heard Quinn ask a while later.

"Hmm?" she cracked an eye open to find Quinn leaning forward onto the table-ish thing.

"I forgot to mention. Shuester's wife has really bad OCD, so I suggest not…saying anything about it. She's gets defensive."

* * *

By some stroke of luck, Rachel had avoided any form of a panic attack until the cab had pulled onto her street. It seemed as if Quinn and Beth had served as a buffer, but the familiar line of houses had thrown her head first into panic mode. All of the thoughts of _I haven't seen them in years,_ and _what if they secretly hate me now? _and _worse, what if it's awkward?_ filled her mind. Objectively, she knew that all of her worries were for nothing—she hadn't been the only one to cry during her phone call home. Still, her hitched breath did not go unnoticed.

"Hey, Rach." She felt Quinn take her hand and instantly calmed down a little bit. "You're going to fine, okay? You're going to knock, they're going to answer, and me and Beth will awkwardly stand behind you witnessing the whole thing." The last part did its job and the brunette cracked a smile.

Rachel tried to figure out when Quinn had become this source of—this grounding force. She remembered the night they talked about their families. Rachel had been surprised that Quinn hadn't talked to hers since high school, just as Quinn had probably been surprised that Rachel was really close to her own family, up until senior year of college.

She squeezed Quinn's hand. "Thanks."

The temporary reprieve from her emotions ended the moment she stood on the porch. She took a deep breath before finally managing to knock twice. It wasn't more than three seconds later that the door swung wide open and Rachel felt her chest almost burst. There was that awkward moment when everyone just stood there, frozen in place, before Rachel finally broke.

"Dads!" She stepped forward and practically jumped into their arms.

Both men wrapped their free arms around her with only a slight _ompf _and held on tight.

* * *

It wasn't as uncomfortable as Quinn had first imagined it would be to watch. If anything, she was actually intimidated—she hadn't expected one of Rachel's fathers to be so…big. Leroy was a bare minimum of six feet tall, while Hiram only looked to be a little less than six feet. She was happy Rachel had showed her a picture and told her their names, but she wished Rachel had chosen a picture that properly conveyed their size. Because Rachel was tiny and she certainly hadn't expected such a difference. Not that she had anything to worry about, seeing as it wasn't as if she was a teenager taking her out on a—

Before Quinn could even finish the thought, she was wrapped in a hug after having missed the "And you must be Quinn." Surprised, she responded by reflex and managed to blink at Rachel. The bitten lip she got in response was so not helping her situation. In the brunette's defense, Rachel _had_ told Quinn that Hiram was the hugger of the family, as Rachel had been years ago.

"Excuse me." Quinn looked down to find Beth at Leroy's feet, tugging on his pant leg. She almost told the girl to come back over, but the look on Leroy's face made her refrain. How many times she had seen Rachel look at Beth with the same expression was uncanny. In that moment, Quinn discovered that Rachel was probably a lot more like her fathers than she had let on. She was in for a rough week if that was the case.

"Yes?" he asked, bending down to meet her at eye level.

She bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows as she looked him up and down. "Why awe you so tall?"

* * *

The few days that Rachel spent with her fathers went much smoother than she had imagined. As she'd expected, they'd fallen in love with her blonde companions almost immediately. Beth had them wrapped around her tiny little finger from the moment she'd tugged on Leroy's pants. Quinn hadn't taken much longer, offering to help set the table and all that jazz. Rachel wondered about what her life would've been like had she met Quinn earlier. Her fathers would've most definitely approved of her presence.

However, despite how well things were going, they chose not to talk about the elephant in the room—her absence from their life—until the third day. Quinn and Beth were already headed towards Hiram's car—he'd lent it to them for the next few days—when they'd tugged her into one last hug and spoke.

"You don't get to disappear this time, Rachel. I won't have it," Hiram said, hands on her shoulders so she couldn't look away.

"He's right, kiddo. I'm an old man, now. My heart can't take it at my age."

She rolled her eyes, distracting herself so she wouldn't cry. "You're hardly even 50, daddy." A sudden wave of guilt washed over her as she realized that she hadn't been there to celebrate his 50th birthday. She suddenly wondered what he had done to celebrate it. Had her fathers gone out to dinner? Had they walked over to the theater and seen a movie? Or had he stayed in, blowing out a candle and wishing she was there?

When he tilted her chin up, she swallowed.

"I mean it, Rachel. We'll talk when you get back," he finished by kissing her on top of her head after one last hug.

She wasn't sure how she was supposed to be feeling so her body decided to feel everything at once.

* * *

The two hour car ride had flown by, and Quinn wondered if it was a trick of the mind. How fast had Rachel been driving, anyway? It seemed as if a half an hour had passed, maybe an hour, but certainly not two. Yet, the clock read 1:31pm, and they'd left at a little after eleven in the morning. Quinn figured Beth's car ride antics were up for blame, though technically Quinn had been the one to teach her the games.

Rachel had been some kind of sign-spotting genius. Every time she'd needed to find a word starting with her letter, she'd found it almost immediately. Really, though, how was she supposed to know they'd pass a store called "X-Rated?" Worse had been when Beth had asked what that meant and Rachel nearly swerved off the road when the girl had said "Is that the porn stuff Aunt Santana was talkin' bout?"

Quinn made sure to leave her friend a nice text message telling her they'd be having a nice chat soon. Her daughter knew the word _porn. _What was the world coming to?

* * *

"I'm suddenly having second thoughts." Rachel hesitated at the entrance of the show choir room. The door was closed, likely so outside noise wouldn't affect the group, but she couldn't help feeling like she was intruding on something. She hadn't gone to this school, nor did she have any connection to it other than Quinn. But maybe that was what she needed, seeing as her own high school connections were not something she wanted to ponder about.

"Why?" Beth asked from beside her, looking up and squeezing Rachel's hand tighter in her own smaller one. Rachel could feel Quinn's gaze and kept her own eyes down in order to avoid it.

"You don't have to do this, Rach," Quinn repeated not for the first time. "Really." But Rachel didn't want to disappoint, and she definitely didn't want to admit to cowering out. It wasn't that she couldn't enter the room, she was just slightly intimidated by the door separating her from a group of kids who would remind her of her past self.

The tabloids had gotten it wrong when they'd called her a heartless bitch. It wasn't that she didn't care, it was that she couldn't care because caring meant she'd have to hope. And hope had left her so long ago.

And high school kids were full of hope. That's all they were: hope to get out, hope to be famous, hope to get into the college of choice, hope life gets better, hope life doesn't change. For everything, there was hope. Rachel knew expectations, those were comfortable. She'd _expected_ to make it to Broadway, not hoped, because she knew her talent was enough. She'd hoped for Broadway and a family, a life outside of work, but she'd gone and messed that up a long time ago.

Trying to focus, Rachel gave up her avoidance tactics and looked over to Quinn. "They know we're coming?"

Quinn smiled that smile that got Rachel every time—which wasn't saying much because every one of Quinn's smiles got to her—and her whole body felt warm. "I called Shuester before we left."

Rachel nodded, then, and squatted down. "Because." She ruffled Beth's hair, much to the girl's annoyance. "What if they're all taller than me?"

"Oh." Beth nodded as if it was a very serious matter that she understood. "Well, I'll pwotect you if they'we mean."

"Promise?" She asked, smiling at the girl's nod in reply. She refused to meet Quinn's gaze again at the moment, knowing that she was using Beth as a distracting force field. Her fathers always said they could practically see her thoughts behind her eyes and, though she'd spent years building up her defenses, she wasn't so sure how strong they were anymore. If she just pretended for one moment that she didn't care for Quinn more than she should, maybe she'd believe it.

* * *

Quinn found it odd, and maybe a tad bit concerning, that Rachel could switch emotions so fast. In private, she was nervous and even a bit shy at times. Yet, the moment they'd entered the room, Rachel was nothing but stoic confidence. And maybe that was kind of attractive, but Quinn tried not to pay attention to that fact.

Only one girl had immediately recognized Rachel, eyes going wide and jaw dropping. The boy next to her seemed to have noticed her reaction, though, and tilted his head to the side as if searching his mind. Before anyone could say anything, Shuester turned from his spot writing on the board and raised his hands in the air. Quinn hoped he wasn't going to hug her, but to be safe she reached down for Beth and picked her up.

"Quinn, you're here! And Miss Berry, it's so nice to meet you. I'm so glad you could make it." He walked over to shake her hand and Quinn tried to hide a smile at the expression on Rachel's face—her confidence was quickly turning into "why is this strange man touching me." Granted, a handshake was a normal thing, but Shuester always managed to make things weird.

She watched as he turned to the room, placing his hands on the piano to contain his child-like excitement. "Guys, this is my old student Quinn Fabray, her daughter Beth, and her friend Rachel Berry—the one Katie mentioned the other day."

"The Broadway singer? No way." Quinn watches as the girl who spoke crosses her arms in front of her chest and leans back in her chair, and she swears it's practically a younger version of Santana sitting before her.

"You say that as if you were a fan and you were offended that someone would claim to be me, yet your lack of recognition leads me to believe otherwi—" Before Rachel could finish, the girl whose jaw dropped—Quinn assumed this is the Katie that Shuester mentioned—started squealing and was almost bouncing in her seat. "Can I have your autograph? I follow you on twitter and facebook, even though you don't post so often on those anymore. Oh, and I've been to 26 of your shows, each of them at least 4 times. And I already have your autograph on twelve of the playbills but you can never have enough!" Almost immediately the girl stops talking and her face goes beat red. Rachel just looks over at Quinn and smiles, and Quinn realizes she's in a little deeper than she thought when she realizes it actually _hurts_ for her heart to beat in that moment.

* * *

After the initial reaction, most of the kids caught on and understood who she was. Each one had some knowledge of her, and Rachel was convinced that Katie was likely the culprit as to why. She was a really sweet girl, and Rachel discovered that she wasn't overwhelmed by all of the energy that buzzed around the girl. Katie was a little much, but she was no more to handle than Rachel had likely been. Granted, Rachel had been a little more organized, but still.

Eventually, once the introductions were over, Shuester had the group perform their numbers and Rachel watched with Quinn and Beth sitting next to her. Katie had jumped out of her seat to offer it and Rachel almost feared the girl would take it home and use it as a base for a shrine.

The group was on their second number by the time Rachel noticed that one girl was sporting a slight bump. Immediately, she was startled, and wondered how the girl landed herself in that situation. She wondered how long the girl had known and what she intended to do with the child.

She thought back to her own past.

When it came to her high school friends, Rachel remembered losing all contact with them by the second semester of her first year of college. They'd texted her at first but, after a lack of replies, they'd given up. Rachel hadn't ever tried to reach out for them since.

She remembered that her college friends were much closer to her than were any others she'd had in her life, excluding David. She'd met most of their families and had even grown to care for them. More than one holiday had been spent at a friend's. It wasn't until her senior year that her life seemed to wither in her hands. She remembered the flower that her friend Olivia had given her as a gift for both her birthday and as a "Congratulations on getting the part." It had been in full bloom, white petals expanded to the fullest.

She'd hated it, but she'd smiled through it and had even managed to hug her friend with a polite "Thank you."

She remembered that very same flower lying on her kitchen table only a few days later, withered and an awful mix of yellow and brown. She remembered the week before that, when she had downed a few wine glasses to gather enough courage to sleep with the casting director's brother of some stupid musical. And the subsequent abortion she went through with. Mostly, she remembered that she did it alone, and by her own choice.

"You okay?" She felt breath on her ear and it startled her out of her thoughts. She realized then how warm her eyes were, and then felt the watery coat that had likely been her tell. Snapping her head to her left, she looked at Quinn and then looked down at Beth and suddenly wished she'd been as strong as the teenage version of Quinn had been. She wished she'd been as strong as that girl dancing before her, twirling around to the song just like everyone else. But, then she'd never have gotten the role, and she'd never have been in that hotel elevator, and the name Quinn would have meant nothing to her. So, maybe she hadn't had the strength to go through with the pregnancy, but she wasn't sure she could continue to regret it with that new outlook.

It was uncomfortable, realizing that.

For years, all she'd heard in her nightmares were childish laughs, giggles. She would dream of a tiny girl with long dark hair, crying because Rachel hadn't given her a chance. And she'd think of her own birth mother and wondered how life would have turned out if she'd decided she didn't want to have Rachel.

Because, now, she couldn't imagine some "What if?" perfect life. The "What if?" she'd dreamed of for years would never have included the two girls next to her.

Her throat felt tight and she actually thought about Quinn's question before finally being able to answer it truthfully for the first time in a while.

"Yeah. I'm fine." And she was because the pregnant girl kept on dancing, the smile never falling off her face.

* * *

Watching Rachel fall victim to the Glee Club's game of 50348 questions had been amusing, but Quinn had never been more happy to leave the choir room. Not only had they been there for almost three hours, but she'd instantly noticed a girl who reminded her of herself, at least when it came to the position she was in. The girl wasn't blonde, nor was she a cheerleader by the looks of it, but Quinn saw herself in those eyes. The ones that said "I'm not weak." The ones that allowed her to walk through the halls without letting the ridicule beat her down.

And they'd talked to her alone for a few moments after Quinn had noticed a change in Rachel. Hence why, the minute Beth begged to go see "Gwamma Lopez," Quinn was thankful she'd have a moment to talk to Rachel without having to worry about Beth. The one good thing that had come of Quinn's terrible childhood, besides Beth, was that she'd practically been adopted into the Lopez family. That meant that Beth had more than just her, in a way.

What Quinn had not been prepared for, however, was when Beth told them she wanted to stay over and Maribel had then insisted and she hadn't been able to talk her way out of it. And then Beth ran into the spare room, leaving only Santana's king sized bed up for grabs that Maribel then suggested she and Rachel share so neither would have to sleep on the couch.

She wondered when her five year old daughter had turned into a mini-Santana.

* * *

Rachel was not panicking. She was not.

She was a grown woman and she'd shared beds with other people before. She was not some teenager who had a crush on her best friend and feared that she'd snuggle up to her in her sleep.

Except, she was a snuggler. And she was slightly panicking.

She hadn't shared a bed with someone other than David in years, and she almost always cuddled into him every night. Whether they spooned, she laid on top of him, or just curled into his side, they were always touching in some way. She could sleep alone, but if someone was in her vicinity, she wasn't sure what would happen.

A tap on her shoulder released an unintentional cross between a yelp and a scream from her throat, and she turned around with her hand grasping her chest.

"Holy crap, you can't just scare me like that, Quinn!" She lowered her voice so as not to wake Beth, who she knew Quinn had just tucked in to bed.

"I called your name twice, you didn't answer." The blonde raised her eyebrow. "What's keeping your mind so busy?"

Rachel bit her lip, debating on what to say. Then again, the eyebrow usually got its way so she slumped down onto the bed and laid on her back with her feet touching the floor.

"That girl, Samantha."

"The pregnant one?" Quinn fell next to her but, instead of looking at the ceiling like Rachel, she kept her eyes on the brunette.

"Yeah." She turned to meet Quinn's gaze. "Was it hard for you to go through with it?"

They'd briefly discussed Quinn being pregnant with Beth before, but they hadn't delved into the subject too much. Rachel knew Quinn was kicked out of her house and that she'd lived with Santana until she graduated. She knew Maribel had immediately taken on the role of mother to Quinn, and treated her no differently that she did her own daughter. But she didn't really _know._

Now Quinn looked at the ceiling and Rachel wondered how much time the blonde had spent in this room as a teenager. Then she wondered about Santana herself, having never met the woman before.

"I can best put it by saying it was a struggle. It certainly wasn't easy, and there was a lot of pain and nausea, but there was no moment where I actually regretted anything. Even when I sat crying, waiting for the stick to tell me my fate, I never wished to take it back, I don't think." She looked over at Rachel again. "I mean, I guess it worked out in the end, so there's nothing to regret." She was silent for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

Rachel closed her eyes and pictured it all. It was a movie in her head—a reel of film that she knew would eventually have to come to an end.

"Was ending it…prematurely ever a thought?"

Quinn blinked. "No. And not because I'm against abortion, but because I just…I'm not sure, actually. I just couldn't." Neither of the two spoke for a moment and Rachel watched as the film went on and on in her head. She wondered what her ending would look like.

"I was pregnant in college and I…" She opened her eyes to express to her friend what she couldn't say with words. The blonde turned on her side with the softest expression on her face that Rachel had ever seen her sport.

"Did you tell anyone?" Quinn asked, and Rachel slowly shook her head. She didn't look away from Quinn, instead searching her eyes for some kind of sign. The blonde looked sad, but it wasn't the pitying look she'd been expecting. It was a mix of a few things, she thought, but all that mattered was that there was not an ounce of judgment.

Deciding to take a risk, because she was starting to feel like she'd been a coward for too long, Rachel rolled over onto her shoulder and pushed Quinn forward by her collar bone. The blonde fell back, slightly surprised, but Rachel didn't give her time to think as she snuggled into her friend's side.

"Just you." She held her breath, waiting for a reaction. She could feel Quinn's heart beating sporadically, but she couldn't say what that meant. The blonde could be trying to figure out a way to push her off without being completely rude for all she knew. Just as she was about to pull away and apologize, saying something about the Berry genes, Quinn's arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

"I'm sorry," she said into chestnut hair, and Rachel wondered what Quinn was talking about until the blonde pulled away slightly. Rachel's heart dropped, because she could picture Quinn preparing her speech about how she just didn't feel right and—

And then Quinn was kissing her.

* * *

**_A few months later_**

Just when Rachel thought her day couldn't possibly get any better, it did.

Not only did it start with Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes—as requested by Beth—but Quinn had surprised her by telling her she'd taken the day off of work. She'd been early for her interview and so she'd had time to enjoy her _perfectly _hot coffee—from its cup, as it had not spilled all over her in some tragic accident. She'd given Josh his second raise and been thanked via a big hug from Nathan.

Traffic had been light and she was set to be just on time for her date with Quinn later that night. All she had to do was change into her dress that was in her room and she was set. While she still had her own apartment, and she basically lived in Quinn's, she hadn't been there in a while since her latest movie was closer to the hotel.

Her dads had called and wished her a happy birthday, announcing they'd be visiting tomorrow.

Walking towards the elevator, Rachel smiled as the view brought back the memories.

The doors opened, the elevator was empty, and she pressed her floor.

Right as the doors started to close, she watched as a blur ran through them. The metal doors stopped moving for a moment and then continued their journey.

"Rachel!" Beth cheered, hugging the brunette's legs.

"Beth? What are you doing here?" she asked, perplexed. Beth was supposed to be with Santana, who was watching her for the day.

"Mommy said we're surprising you." Rachel rolled her eyes playfully and wondered what on earth Quinn had planned for them. The blonde would never cease to amuse her.

They were somewhere between the fifth and sixth floor when the lights dimmed and the elevator came to a stop. Reaching for her phone, Rachel handed it to the girl and said, "Call you mother and tell her that if this was her plan, she's sleeping on the couch."


End file.
